Short Story: Havoc Rising

By Brian S. Leon

Chapter i

Tyre, Phoenicia, 1232 BC

As the sun began to set on a pleasant summer’s evening, the sailors made the squat hippoi ship–named for its horse-head masthead–secure at its moorings within the Port of Sidon on the trading post’s upper eastern side. We lagged behind while other passengers gathered their belongings, disembarked and made their way out into the shops in the market before they closed for the night. Given that our journey had taken us weeks it was unlikely anyone would recognize us. To make our identification even more unlikely, after fleeing my mother’s home of Qulha on the eastern shores of the treacherous Inhospitable Sea weeks ago, we took a circuitous route through the pirate infested waters and across the Aegean to Crete before heading to Egypt and landing here well north of the land of Pharaohs. Still, my mother insisted we take great care to avoid direct contact with others while we moved down the busy dock. By virtue of my mother’s horrific deeds in her home as well as in Corinth and Athens, we were now fugitives throughout most of the Greek lands, subject to hanging, or worse, if caught.

In spite of the evening’s warmth, we both wore hooded garments that covered our features. Even though our journey to this point was long and still far from finished, we only carried a small bag and a bedroll each.

“Keep moving. With luck we can catch the last ferry to Ushu across the channel,” my mother said pointing impatiently at the coastal town half a mile away on the mainland. “Then we will wait out the night inside the city at its eastern gates.”

Anxious to the point of being physically jittery, I just nodded and fell in step clutching her arm as if supporting her.

The port and even the markets stank from the piles of fish and the small spiky shells of the shellfish that made the port city famous. The brilliant purple color that could be produced from the snail’s mucus was making the local dyers wealthy. It also stained the wooden docks, boat decks and fishermen alike. The musk of fishermen who’d been at sea for days and the throngs of unwashed and weary travelers and traders added to the already pungent odor of the town.

My mother leaned on me and pretended to limp heavily as we moved among the stalls and carts. She insisted on the ruse of frailty because it was commonly believed that any ailment or infirmity was punishment for some sort of transgression against the gods. People gave us a wide berth as we passed not wanting any part of our perceived punishment. I despised the disdainful looks we got. This was no way for people of our stature and standing to travel. By rights, my mother was a queen and I was the heir to her throne. The commoners we passed should be kneeling before us, not avoiding us like garbage left in the street.

“We’ll be safe inside the city walls tonight, but where are we headed once we leave Ushu?” I asked, swallowing hard.

She didn’t respond, which made me even more apprehensive about her mysterious plan. The stories she told me during our voyage about the Habiru–a tribe of legendary and brutal cutthroats and highwaymen that preyed on travelers in this region—already had me on edge. Still, I knew better than to push her. Besides, I knew how to handle a weapon and I could defend myself. She had always insisted that I train with the best instructors she could find—so what if I’d never been in a real fight before. Even so, an icy feeling crept over my skin and I had to suppress a shudder, but there was no way I could let my mother know I was afraid or the bandits would be the least of my worries.

We cautiously made our way across the small but heavily fortified island, past the main temple to the wide, flat boat that carried timber and freshwater out to the island and passengers to the mainland and the town beyond. We walked in total silence. Despite the fact that my mother said she’d never been here before she seemed intimately familiar with the twisting streets and alleyways. This knowledge didn’t impress me as much as when she displayed some of her other skills and abilities—especially when angry. I could not stop myself from shuddering. I stared out at the towering walls that surrounded the island city while we left.

My mother finally spoke about halfway across the channel. “We are headed east,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “The Far Reaching One will guide our journey. And we need to find the Habiru, or at least let them find us.”

“Won’t that be dangerous?” I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. “You said everyone avoids them at all costs and that travelers caravan through their territories just in case. I could probably handle a few,” I stammered, trying to maintain my composure, “but if they attack us in a group we’ll be killed.”

She glared at me from under her hood, her green eyes flashing with such intensity even in the failing light that I stumbled back from her, inadvertently bumping into the rail of the ferry.

“I don’t need you to protect me, my son,” she replied. “But we will need their help to get where we are headed. Trust me and do not question me again.”

“I do trust you mother,” I said, my voice cracking and squeaky. “I just don’t understand why we have to run so far or why we need to tempt these cutthroats. Certainly you and Hec–.”

She cut me off with the wave of a hand and I immediately glanced away for fear of her wrath.

A short time later, the ferry docked and the few passengers heading into the walled city of Ushu began moving off in different directions. We continued our crippled traveler ruse, moving straight into the main part of town. Now that it was dark, shops were closed and people in long brightly colored multi-layered tunics, still vivid in the failing light, were on their way home, leaving us largely alone to walk the streets. Once the foot traffic became almost nonexistent, my mother shed her limp and we picked up the pace, navigating the town’s back streets as if she lived here all her life. It took less than half an hour to make the trek through Ushu to the town’s massive wooden Eastern gate, which was already locked and guarded for the night.

“Just as I expected,” mother said standing in the shadows at the mouth of an alleyway across from an inn. She looked at the two gate watchmen, clad in leather helmets and cuirasses and holding spears, and back to the inn.

“Did She tell you where we are headed?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

I hated that she didn’t trust me, but I had been witness to too many instances of my mother dealing with those that irritated her to push my luck. Being her son provided no immunity from her wrath. After all, I saw her slit my brothers’ throats just to get even with our father for his betrayal, and then she blamed their death on the locals. The memories of that day make me sick to my stomach. But then she also poisoned my father’s mistress and the woman’s father, Creon, King of Corinth, and tried to poison the son of her second husband back in Athens to preserve my inheritance, and killed her uncle back in Qulha. I even heard rumors that she killed her brother when she first met my father. And many of those were people that she supposedly loved. I shivered at the recollection of the state of the body of her uncle when they discovered him—there was so little of him left intact that if not for the rings on his right hand, it was impossible to distinguish his remains from that of a skinned and butchered calf. I knew his gruesome death was the reason for our flight, but I suspected that our final destination was coming from Hecate. Hecate was never shy about ordering her high priestess places with little explanation, and my mother would never disobey her sovereign deity.

“To a place of power that will allow me to continue my work against all those who have wronged me, my son. A place where you will be a King,” she finally said. “Ask me no more questions tonight and let us get some rest while we wait.”

“Wait? Wait for what? And how am I supposed to rest in an alley?” I asked. “We just got off a rickety, crowded boat and we’ve been on the move for weeks. I need some place to really rest, mother.”

She spun around so fast I nearly fell over. In the darkened alley, all I could see within her hood was her flaring green eyes, like emeralds held up to sunlight, fixed on me. I could feel the temperature drop rapidly around me and as my breath started to fog in front of me, my mother started to growl.

“Do. Not. Test. Me. Medus,” she said as her eyes flashed.

Suddenly I was both cold and numb like my limbs were made of stone. Time seemed to stand still. I wanted to flee, but my feet would not move. I found myself unable to look away from her eyes and everything else started to darken and fade. I stared at the glowing eyes and the only thing I could feel was an overwhelming sense of terror and dread. And then an intense pressure built in my chest and my feet left the ground just as everything went black.

When I came to, I found myself staring up into a dark, star-filled sky, surrounded by a few squat buildings. I sat up, shook my head and saw the alleyway I had been standing in just in front of me. My chest hurt and I shivered—still frozen to my very core. I could not see my mother in the shadows of the alley, but as I got to my feet, rapid footsteps thudded behind me . Regaining my composure, I glanced over my shoulder to see one of the gatekeepers.

“Are you okay?” the guard asked.

“Yes, yes… I’m fine,” I replied, in considerable pain. I straightened my robe and took a deep, steadying breath. “I…just fell.” The last thing we needed was attention. If someone recognized us, even this far from Qulha, we would likely be killed.

“Just arrived in town today?” the guard asked.

“Yes, just this–,” I said.

A sudden insistent hiss came from somewhere down the darkened alley, drawing he guard’s attention away from me.

“What were you doing down that alley?” he asked, peering intently down the passage between the buildings. It was far too inky to see anything.

“I got lost and I tripped and fell.” The guard was being too inquisitive and I knew that would earn him an appointment with Charon courtesy of my mother. I just wished she would do it already.

“Looks more like you were thrown,” he said, taking a few steps closer to the alley.

“No, I just…,” I replied.

“Closer. Come closer” my mother hissed from the darkness.

“Did you hear that?” the guard asked, quickly glancing back at me, his eyes wide beneath his helm. His hands tightened around his spear and he stepped to the edge of the stygian darkness.

A soft clap sounded and the guard went rigid for an instant and then start to quaver as if cold.

“Grab his shoulder and walk back into the alley with him,” my mother said, still hidden in the shadows of the alley.

“What?”

“Now, or worse will happen to you. Do it!” she said, whispering hoarsely.

I grabbed the guard by his upper arm just as his legs gave out from under him. Surprisingly, he didn’t fall and I felt him being dragged into the darkness by some force other than me. I followed, keeping the body upright without feeling any of his weight.

Once ensconced within the darkness, the guard’s weight returned. The falling man nearly dragged me to the ground before I let go, suddenly aware the guard’s cuirass was slick with blood and he was not unconscious but dead. Before I could straighten up, my mother appeared from deeper within the shadows, her green eyes flaring brightly in the darkness.

“Quickly, don his armor and return to his post,” she said, moving back to the edge of the alleyway.

“But won’t the other one know I’m not this man?”

“Just do as I say!” she said hissing.

I removed the armor from the guard, discovering in the process that my mother had somehow ripped this man’s throat out and I jerked back at the sight. I removed my cloak and gingerly pulled on the ill-fitting dead man’s blood covered armor in disgust. I turned to tell my mother that the cuirass and helmet didn’t fit when I noticed her mumbling and reaching one clawed hand toward the other gate guard. Across the street near the gate, the remaining guard shook his head and rubbed at his face.

 “That one will not be able to see well enough to notice you have taken his partner’s place.”

“But…,” I said, gesturing toward the blood covered cuirass on my chest.

Using the sleeve of her cloak, she quickly wiped as much blood off the breastplate as she could, removing the slick, dark stain from the leather, but leaving behind the sickly sweet metallic smell.

“Go. We head toward Dimasqu at first light and I can easily go without you.” She said, pointing at the gate.

“Everything okay,” the remaining guard asked, still rubbing at his face under his helmet.

I nodded and grunted in response.

The other guard nodded back and continued to rub absently at his face and eyes for the rest of the night. The town became quieter and quieter as the night progressed without a single person appearing. In fact, the only thing that moved all night was a small dog, lazily trotting down the street at one point. It stopped briefly to sniff down the entrance to the alleyway before it took off like a shot with a sharp yelp. The other guard didn’t even seem to notice.

Just as dawn began to break across the eastern horizon of the town, my mother crossed out of the alleyway to the gate and approached the remaining guard who jerked back in surprise despite the fact she walked right up to him. After a brief moment of conversation that I could not overhear, the guard motioned for me to help him.

“Okay, let’s get this gate open,” he said, moving as if drunk.

I helped him lift the heavy cross bar and then push the massive doors open as they snapped and popped on their heavy bronze hinges. The guard tried to secure the door on his side, and my mother swept her hand nonchalantly from right to left and the already unstable guard fell to the ground.

“Quickly, let’s go.” She said, heading out into the desert without waiting for me to catch up.

Chapter ii

Several long days later, in the desert well east of Ushu the rolling terrain began to flatten out again. Aside from the occasional rock formation or small hillock, the scars of war were all that marred the monotonous landscape. The scope of the battle that raged here was immense, spreading for miles in every direction and nothing but the twisted frames of chariots, occasional bones and burnt earth remained, jutting like tumors from the sand.

“What happened here?” I asked as we walked past the ruins of a chariot and a pile of stark white horse bones scattered about by vultures and other desert scavengers.

“Not long ago the Hittites of the North fought the Egyptian god-king, the son of Seti, here, for control of this region.” my mother replied, pointing to the north, though she never took her eyes off the nearest rock formations. “Despite the Hittites use of their ferric metal, the Egyptian god-king emerged victorious, but his resources were stretched too thin and he has since retreated and left the land on its own. Dimasqu should be no more than five or six leagues ahead of us,” she continued. “The closer we get the more likely we are to encounter bandits, so keep an eye out for any movement.”

Suddenly, she faced me and with a warning finger raised, she glared at me in a way that made me stumble. “And when they find us, do not attempt a defense, or they will simply kill rather than just rob. Whatever they do, make sure they take this bag,” she said, taking a small leather sack from within her pack and tying it to her waist-cord.

For a long few minutes after her admonition, I found it hard to breath. I knew her statement was as much a threat as it was direction, but I didn’t know if that bothered me as much as actually facing the Habiru. Mother told me that these men were of no one race, but rather many, with their status as nomadic outlaws, thieves, mercenaries and cutthroats their only uniting factor. They were famous for their inhuman, almost bestial brutality. In spite of the sweltering heat, I felt cold.

Several hours later, the outlines of the settlement camps outside Dimasqu began to appear on the horizon through the waves of heat radiating off the sand, and my mother suddenly grabbed my arm. She looked around slowly but intently and the corner of her mouth ticked up into the slightest of smiles. All at once my heart began to pound in my chest and my hands went numb.

“Men are close by, I can feel them,” she said, whispering.

My eyes darted everywhere but I could focus on nothing. Everything was a blur.

“What have we here?” said a voice that came from rocks at the crown of the hill.

My mother stopped and began looking around erratically and stumbled slightly as if caught off guard, though I knew inwardly she was elated. For her it was beginning. For me it was a nightmare come true.

“Who’s there?” she said, stammering, whipping her head around toward the pile of rocks.

I stood slightly behind her, trying to overcome my disquiet with the knowledge that this is exactly what mother wanted to happen. It was little comfort knowing we were at the mercy of bandits. I knew she needed the bandits to think we were afraid of them so they would feel in control and approach boldly. She needed them close, which caused me to break out into a cold sweat and I had to ball my fists to hide my shaking hands.

“Stay where you are, the both of you,” the man on the outcropping said. He was taller than me and covered head to foot by a sandy colored tunic and some sort of scarf, but his dark eyes were intense.

Two men came out from either side of the formation, while several others came out from hiding holes beneath the sand in front, behind and to the other side of us. I counted at least four men armed with swords and knives, while other men in front and behind held bows. They were all dressed in dark colored robes that covered them from neck to toe and wore scarf-like dressings covering their heads and faces.

“Leave your possessions on the ground in front of you and be on your way. And be quick about it or we’ll help you out,” the man said, in a calm, practiced tone, pointing at us with a short bronze sword.

My mother began throwing her possessions on the ground, bringing attention to the little leather bag by dropping it last, but her fear suddenly seemed real and my heart raced. What if she really was scared of these men?

“Please don’t hurt us. We have nothing,” my mother said, stammering. She sobbed as she backed into me and my hands began to shake so violently I was having trouble untying the bag at my waist.

The man from the rock–clearly the leader–jumped down, walked over and grabbed the little leather purse my mother had made a show of dropping. The man tossed it in his hand with a quick rhythmic thud trying to determine the weight or the possible contents while the others quickly closed ranks and grabbed at our paltry gear. The leader gazed intently at my mother as he fondled the little bag in front of her. She bowed her head to avoid his gaze, backed into me and then stepped next to me, clutching at my arm for support.

“Now why would you two be out here by yourselves?” he asked, removing the scarf to reveal his swarthy bearded face. “No one travels these roads alone for fear of bandits, or worse, yet here I have a woman and a…,” he took a step closer and peered down at me. “I guess you’d be a boy, or perhaps a manly young woman. You got anything else hidden under that cloak? ”He poked his sword at me and he and his men laughed when I jerked back reflexively.

My mother’s hands tightened on my arm, keeping me from moving more than a step. I knew my mother didn’t see me as the man either of my brothers would have been though I never knew why she spared me instead of one of them.

With her free hand, she reached tremulously for the leader’s arm as he taunted us. “You have all our belongings, please just let us go,” she said, faltering.

The leader recoiled from her reach and then backhanded her across the cheek with a resounding smack that caused her to fall to the ground in an unmoving heap.

“Mother!” I screamed, simultaneously dropping to the ground to check on her.

There was no way she could have been prepared for that blow and without her, I stood no chance of surviving. Kneeling over my mother, I glared at the leader, whose shoulders shook as he laughed, and then back at my motionless mother. I could not stop my eyes filling with tears of fear, frustration and rage. And then I noticed it—a small, almost imperceptible drop in temperature and my ears popped. She wasn’t unconscious–my mother was preparing some sort of magic while she lay there. Bolstered by the realization, I glared back up at the leader and snarled just in time to see the leader’s sandaled foot come off the ground.

“Whatever you were, you’re dead now,” the leader said, snorting as he put his foot on my shoulder and pushed me over, sending me sprawling in the sand next to my mother.

The bandits laughed when I tried to get back to my knees while the bandit leader walked back toward the archer at the front of the group, tossing the leather purse in his hand in a pompous show. “Nachor, as soon as we move out, put these two out of our misery. The rest of you,” he shouted, “let’s get moving.”

My heart stopped and I forgot about my mother. The rest of the group quickly and quietly disappeared behind the hill taking all of our gear with them and I pushed myself to my feet, leaving her still sprawled in the sand. I didn’t care if she was working on some sort of magic. I didn’t want to die before she could act.

“You can’t kill us. Don’t,” I said to the archer, holding up my hands.

Suddenly, in a move that was so deft that it caught me completely off guard, my mother got to her feet, even before the archer could finish nocking his arrow. I jerked back and the bandit fumbled his arrow.

The archer’s momentary hesitation gave her just enough time to unleash a mass of green energy the size of a pomegranate at the archer like a falling star. It hit him and exploded in a blinding emerald flash that sent him backwards only a few feet, but it reduced his ribs, spine and skull into a greasy red mist and turned most of the rest of him into a gelatinous pulp barely recognizable as human.

Then she backhanded me across the face in a move so swift that it seemed I felt it before I even saw it coming. I grabbed my bruised cheek and cowered, dropping my head and turning away before she could hit me again. But I spun away only to face the remains of the archer on the hill and my stomach churned. I was acutely aware of what she was capable of and it repelled me. Each time I witnessed her power and viciousness I saw new depths of horror. She was the living embodiment of so many of my nightmares that my fear of her kept me from moving.

“Coward!” she shouted. “Your fear was no act! I should not have to tolerate such trepidation in my own child! I promise you, the fact that you are my son will not protect you if your spinelessness interferes with my plans. I will lay you next to Mermeros and Pheres without hesitation, do you understand?”

I closed my eyes tightly, fighting to suppress the visions those names dredged up while she railed behind me, part of me wishing she would just kill me and end this dreadful existence. I cowered and found I could not bring myself to move. It was more than simply being held immobile. Everything else raced past at incredible speed and all I could focus on was her penetrating voice. I couldn’t stop the visions of my two dead brothers, the bloated discolored bodies of my father’s poisoned mistress and her father and the disemboweled archer’s corpse in front of me.

Thankfully, the paralyzing sensation passed quickly but all I could do was wretch. I opened my eyes and faced my mother, wiping my mouth and still on my knees. She appeared calmer once more. I was too afraid to speak and I knew better than to say anything any way. It would only serve to set her off again and who knows what she would do.

“We need to hurry and follow them,” she said as if nothing had happened between us. “Once he opens that pouch we need to act quickly.”

The sudden change in her demeanor startled me, but I was used to witnessing the wild swings in her disposition almost as much as I was her brutality. Nonetheless, I tried to gather myself as we set off to follow the bandits.

As my mother predicted, the group of thieves managed to travel less than a hundred yards beyond the other side of the hillock before greed took over and the bandit leader opened the little purse to see what was inside. We found the five remaining men in heaps where they fell–unconscious, but otherwise unharmed, the open purse still in the bandit leader’s hand. A sweet smell hung in the hot, dry air around them.

“Quickly,” my mother barked, “we’ve not much time before they wake.”

We bound the men using ropes we scavenged from them and then collected all their belongings and weapons into a pile. We gagged each man and tied all but one member of the gang together, leaving the smallest member of the band bound separately ten feet away.

“Go back and drag the dead one over here and place him next to them,” my mother ordered plainly as if asking me to fetch some food. “I want them to see what’s left of him.”

The idea of dragging the remains all that way made me wretch, but the thought of what she intended to do, made me vomit. I tried not to think about it as I dragged what amounted to a sack of oozing flesh that used to be human across the desert landscape. The putrid smell, the feel of shattered bones grinding, the sounds of the ripped flesh shifting and the buzzing of flies that had already gathered made me dizzy. To make matters worse, I returned just as my mother began some arcane ritual I didn’t want to know about. She was drawing a circle ringed by a series of symbols in the sand around the small bandit, murmuring something while she worked.

Time seemed interminably slow waiting to find out what mother was up to. A small part of me wanted to run, but I knew I’d never make it in this desert on my own. The bigger part of me, however, was impatiently waiting to see these men get their just rewards for attacking us. I only hoped my mother had something special in store for the one who kicked me.

I sat and stared at the leader, trussed up like a wild boar ready for slaughter, and thought about what I would do to him if I could. Maybe I would burn him slowly, or cut chunks from his flesh to hear him scream. If I had my mother’s abilities, maybe I would turn him inside out or change him into a real pig and then eat him. Suddenly his eyes opened and he jerked with a start, looking right at me.

Chapter iii

I lost my balance and had to catch myself to keep from falling at the surprise. The sudden commotion got my mother’s attention and she calmly walked over to the bound men while I regained my composure. When the leader finally came fully to his senses, I could see confusion dawn in his eyes as he peered into the eager face of the woman he just robbed, realizing that he was bound and gagged. He blinked hard a few times and struggled against the ropes violently for a moment to free himself.

I couldn’t help but laugh while walking over to stand just outside of the circle my mother had drawn around the lone bandit, who was still unconscious. I made a show of playing with one of my knives.

“Ah, you are finally awake. We’ve been waiting,” my mother said, smiling at the leader, pushing her hood back to reveal her pale skin and long, wild red hair.

My mother removed the gag from the leader’s mouth and kneeled down next to him to meet him eye-to-eye. I could see the confusion etched on his face deepen as he saw her up close for the first time. I know that men consider my mother beautiful, but most find out the hard way that her beauty does not lie much below the skin.

“My name is Medea of Colchis, and your men are all still alive. Except that one,” she said pointing at the eviscerated archer with an ornate, serpentine-bladed bronze dagger crusted in red and orange jewels. “For now, any-way,” she added, with a broad smile.

I could only imagine what was going through the bandit leader’s mind when he looked at her—a woman that just a short time ago he had slapped into submission. A woman that he mistook for being old and infirm, traveling with her feeble son: easy marks. Now he would be realizing just how wrong he was. I smiled.

“You are alive for one reason. I need your help to get to the holy site of Mount Arvant, west of Rhages, and I need an army to protect me as I work,” mother said, brandishing the knife. “I do not wish to cause any more trouble or loss of life. And I can make you very rich.” She spread her hands wide. “Or I can do worse than that to each of you and the rest of your tribe,” she said pointing at the remains of the archer.

I listened intently, finally hearing more of her plan and reason for our ridiculous journey for the first time myself. My heart sank. I learned long ago that questioning my mother’s actions came with a serious price, but the places she mentioned were unknown to me and I was beyond weary of the unknown. As the gang leader stared at the pile of what used to be his archer, he tried to twist away, but his restraints held him fast. His thrashing began to rouse the remaining members of the gang.

“Are you crazy?” the gang leader asked, breathing erratically, his face contorted into a mask of disbelief. “Do you have any idea how far away Arvant is? And what did you do to Nachor? How? And why is Re’u inside that…circle?” He nodded his head toward the isolated bandit.

Watching him struggle somehow lifted my spirits and his confusion made me laugh again, though I was more than a little concerned about my mother needing his help. I preferred that she killed him, not bargain with him. Did she not remember that this man hit her–and kicked me–a short while ago?

The leader’s eyes tracked wildly from my mother, over his waking men, to me and to the dead archer’s remains and back, but I could see his breathing slow as he began to focus on my mother. I could tell he was trying to regain his wits, weighing my mother’s offer. Truthfully, he had no options. He had nothing to bargain with and he had to know it. He would do what my mother asked, or die. I hated that my mother wanted his help, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that when he had served his purpose, my mother would likely kill him anyway. Either way, he was dead. He just didn’t know it yet.

“I ask only once more: will you help me? Think carefully and choose your next words wisely,” my mother said, pointing the dagger at him while she turned around. She walked over, knelt by Re’u within the circle and viciously sliced the side of his face with the knife. Re’u instantly came to with a start and a muffled screech as the blade drew a steady stream of blood. She rubbed the blade in the seeping wound, coating it, as Re’u desperately tried to move away and then she stood back. If mother stood back, I knew better than to remain any closer than she did. I knew she was about to do something horrible, but when I glanced back at the cocksure leader, I just sneered.

“And your answer…,” she asked.

Every one of the bound men’s eyes widened in fear, fixed on my mother, though none of them moved or even struggled. The leader just stared at her.

“Very well…,” she said and then bent down and stabbed the knife into one of the symbols drawn around the circle’s edge. The small thief within was trembling and wide-eyed with terror. Their eyes met and she began murmuring something and Re’u’s eye rolled white and he began convulsing.

Re’u’s companions looked on in horror as their comrade, and everything within the circle drawn on the ground, began to warp and darken. There was absolutely no sound coming from inside the circle, not even from their friend, though there should have been at least screams or cries as his mouth stretched open beneath his gag. I watched the men’s reactions with glee as Re’u’s body started to fold in on itself, with limbs breaking at odd angles and the head imploding as his body spasmed. The circle was still silent. Only the gasps and whimpers of the other men disturbed the hush in the desert air. The body continued to collapse as if it were being drawn into a tiny hole until my mother waved the knife horizontally through the air.

All at once, Re’u’s body, now reduced to a mound the size of a cat, instantly exploded. But the blood and gore never got past the circle drawn on the ground–and the sound and force of the explosion was eerily absent. I had never before seen my mother do something like this.

The bound men struggled against their restraints with renewed vigor. My mother approached them, scuffing her foot over the circle she had drawn in the sand around the crushed man. As she did so, the gore that coated whatever invisible barrier contained it, fell to the ground with a disgusting wet thump. The smell of offal instantly permeated the air, causing several of the captives to wretch into their gags.

My mother said nothing, she simply glared at the leader slightly sideways, her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. Several of the men began mumbling at once. My mother held up the dagger and pointed it at the leader, immediately shutting the men up while staring wide-eyed at her.

I found their fear amusing. These men, the legendary and vicious Habiru were cowering at our feet. The gore of the situation didn’t even bother me as much as I expected. I found their distress far more intriguing.

”You, will you take me?”

He nodded for a few seconds before he could actually say the word. In that moment, I no longer simply feared my mother, but I also envied her abilities. To possess the ability to make even the most hardened men cower–that was real power.

“Yes. Yes. We’ll take you,” he said, stammering.

“Good,” she said returning the knife to its sheath in her pack. “Cut them lose,” she said to me, “and let’s get moving.”

My heart sank slightly at her command. I wanted to see all of these men suffer, not just one. But after witnessing what she did to Re’u, there was no way I was going to disobey her. With luck, maybe these men would think I had the same abilities and show me respect.

I cut the men free roughly, making sure they knew who was in charge by taunting them and poking them with my knife. Once freed, they immediately scrambled to their feet facing us, rubbing their wrists, watching us cautiously with eyes wide.

“Your gear is over there,” I said, pointing to the pile of weapons and packs on the other side of the horrific mess that used to be Re’u and next to the remains of the archer Nachor.

None of the men made a move.

“We… should probably get moving if we want to get to our camp before dark,” said the leader, straightening his shoulders as he took note of the sun’s position in the sky.

Like the others, he could not take his eyes off the bloody lump that used to be Re’u lying next to a bloody mass wrapped up in Nachor’s clothes, as he went to retrieve his gear.

The leader tried to regain his composure and I thought if I’m to be a king as mother promised, then that is definitely the kind of power I want to wield. Fear like that would earn me respect. The one thing my mother has taught me is that mercy is for the weak.

Chapter iv

My mother and I followed the four remaining men further into the desert, south and away from the town of Dimasqu. My mother smiled every time the terrified men craned their necks to check behind them. Their fearful reactions made me smile in return. The men never tried to run, nor did any of them mutter a sound.

As we walked, I thought about our destination—apparently some mountain named Arvant—and about what my mother intended to do there until my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to risk her wrath.

“Why this mountain?” I whispered to my mother. “What is so special about it that we need to go there and that we require these men to help us?”

“The mountain is the site of a convergence of the energy that runs within this world and those in the area consider it a holy place. I will need that energy to exact revenge on those who have wronged me, especially the so-called deity Aphrodite,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “These men will help me control the area so that I will be left undisturbed to do my work. I will see to it that you, my son, shall be their ruler. That is all you need to know for now.”

I nodded and contemplated her statement, but in truth, the only part I cared about was being the ruler. I liked that part. I walked the rest of the afternoon in silence, day dreaming about what kind of ruler I would be.

Just before sunset, we entered the makeshift village of low tents, designed to be completely disassembled at a moment’s notice, we followed them up to the largest and most central structure–an elaborate pavilion, simple, but massive and open on all sides. The inhabitants of the nomadic community, some forty men, women and children, began to gather around the tent as we entered. The leader sat down heavily on a throne of pillows and cushions at the tent’s center. Initially there were only a few attendants under the canvas, but villagers began to file in from all sides. We could hear murmurings all around us, and though I could not understand them, I knew they were talking about us. There were several conversations between the men we returned with and a few women that led to howls and wails before they were led from the tent with the exception of one woman who simply scowled at us. My mother met her gaze unflinchingly, but I grinned. The thought that in a matter of moments these people—the Habiru—realized that there were people far more dangerous than them in this world–and that my mother and I were among them—made me feel powerful.

“I failed to introduce myself earlier,” the leader finally said with the same attitude and arrogance he had on that hilltop before he robbed us. “I am Kesed, leader of this band of Habiru. These are my people and if you can indeed make us rich, then, I suppose we are at your service.” He bowed his head and flourished one hand wide in welcome. “Come, sit and be our guests.”

In an attempt to reassert his authority and regain some dignity, this man, Kesed, motioned to the rest of those already assembled that they should also sit. I sat only because my mother did.

“Tell us what it is, exactly, that you require of us,” Kesed said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

The leader’s booming statement drew the remaining villagers to the tent. Many squatted down, sitting on their heels, while others continued to stand, warily, around the edge of the tent. The murmurs from the crowd were incessant and the looks they gave my mother and me were poisonous.

An older, grey bearded man approached Kesed from behind and spoke to him. My mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, following the man’s movements intently. He had to be some sort of advisor, concerned about our presence and the chieftain’s statement regarding helping strangers.

While they spoke, my mother leaned towards me and whispered. “If you are to rule these men, then they need to know you are a man of conviction. That man could cause problems for us. I want you to deal with him. Make him…an example.”

“What do you mean,” I replied, blinking hard and jerking my head back.

“You must kill him. You must kill him because he speaks against us and will continue to be a thorn for you if you do not. You must kill him and they must know it was you that did so.”

“But how? When?” I said stammering.

“I will draw their attention and show them all what I am capable of. You must show them what you are capable of. Use your imagination,” she said flourishing her hand slightly.

My heart pounded in my chest and I was cold again. Then I realized it wasn’t just me. Once again, I could feel the parching heat give way as the temperature began to drop rapidly around me. My mother was facing Kesed, but I could see her stare was vacant. She was gathering her power again. The air under the tent became frigid and a hush fell over the crowd as they eyed us with renewed suspicion. My mind raced trying to come up with a plan. I tried to organize my thoughts and push aside my fears and attempted to mimic her actions, staring blankly ahead, stone-faced and rigid.

My mother stood and walked toward the center of the tent, glanced at Kesed and then coolly said, “Pir.” Immediately, she burst into blue-white flames that produced no heat whatsoever and the crowd shifted back, while murmurs and gasps flew around the throng of people.

In my head, whether real or imagined, I could hear my mother’s voice telling me now was the time. With everyone’s eyes on my mother, I stood and walked toward the edge of the crowd and then ducked out from under the tent. I could hear the gasps and murmurs increase from within as I ran around the tent to the far side, behind Kesed and the old advisor.

I ducked down behind the crowd while they focused on my mother parading around covered in blue flames so that the old man could not see me as he left the tent. The old advisor shook his head, murmuring to himself as he pushed his way out of the tent. I realized I was holding my breath.

How was I supposed to kill him? Should I stab him? Hit him over the head? He passed close to me, continuing to mutter loudly in some harsh language and I quickly tried to blend in to the edge of the crowd as he hobbled across the sand toward a small tent without looking back.

I took a deep breath, rose to my feet and followed him in the failing light of dusk. At the entrance to his tent, I realized I still hadn’t chosen a weapon or method of disposal. Suddenly images of Kesed kicking me and his men laughing at me flooded my racing mind. Anger welled up within me and I found myself entering the old man’s tent as if I was watching it happen from above. With my teeth bared, I watched myself stalk across the small, dimly lit space and grab the old man around the throat before he could react. He was old and weak, and though he tried to fight back, he was not strong enough to break my grip on his neck. I squeezed, focusing all the rage I felt at being ridiculed by others and especially by my mother. I squeezed until the old man’s body went limp and then I continued to squeeze until my fingers gave up. In a haze of anger, I pulled my daggers and began the laborious task of cutting the old man’s head free from his body. As I did so, another notion came to me that would make sure these people knew I was not to be trifled with.

Once I was done, I walked back into the tent and pushed my way through the crowd until I came to the space at the center where my mother still stood. She was producing a brilliant white sphere of light and directing it over the heads of the crowd under the tent. The glowing orb mesmerized everyone. Kesed was focused on his people rather than on my mother or her tricks. I kept the head wrapped in my cloak, but by this time it was soaked and stained bright red with blood and gasps began flying through the assembly as all eyes turned from my mother’s ball of light–one of her more mundane tricks–to focus on me. As they should.

Gasps became murmurs as people pointed and stared at me while I walked triumphantly to the center of the tent in front of Kesed and dropped the old advisor’s head on the pillows at his feet. Kesed pushed back slightly at the sight but when it dawned on him exactly whose head it was, he moved to pull his sword from his belt. I felt my mother’s presence behind me before he could even expose the blade.

I glared at him and then grinning, I threw the old man’s tongue at him, hitting him in the chest with a muffled, wet thump. “This is what happens to those who speak ill of us.” I said and walked back to the spot I originally occupied and sat down.

The crowd went silent and my mother smiled as she walked back towards me. My heart pounded in my chest and I had to fight to control my breathing as I sat, but I was exhilarated and felt powerful for the first time in my life.

Across from me, Kesed sat back down heavily on his throne of pillows, his eyes tracking from the severed head of his advisor to me and then to my mother. I stared back at him, trying not to smirk. To my surprise, he simply tilted his head and nodded as if impressed.

“Fear not!” my mother’s voice boomed through the silent tent. “It will be as I told you: Those that aid me in my quest will be richly rewarded with far more than simple baubles and wealth. I can grant you far more than you can imagine. What say you?”

The silence was deafening while my mother looked around at the people gathered around us and then at Kesed.

For a moment he said nothing and then his mouth opened as if he wanted to respond. Another long moment went by before he finally spoke. “I have no intention of letting you hurt any more of my people,” he said, standing, one hand on his sword at his belt, the other pointing toward the old advisor’s head at his feet.

“I have no intention of hurting anyone else. I only wish your help. In return you will earn my favor,” she replied.

I glanced across the faces of the crowd. Despite the horror of what I had done, these bandits were intrigued by the offer. Apparently, my mother’s stories about their brutality were true, because my actions only caught them off guard. Perhaps they even understood and respected this type of violence. Indeed, their collective greed won out and heads began to nod.

Kesed noticed his people’s reaction. “We will aid you on your journey to the holy mountain,” he said, “And we will offer you protection.” He began to walk around the open central area, circling my mother, appearing thoughtful as he spoke. “In return, you will make us–each and every one—wealthy.”

“I will. You will have enough wealth to last you many lifetimes. Your children’s children will not be able to spend it all. But I can offer you so much more,” my mother said. “If you want to instill fear in others, I can make that happen. If you want to be stronger, faster and more deadly than you ever thought humanly possible, I can give this to you. And I can even offer you a life long enough to see kingdoms rise and fall around you and watch the bones of your enemies turn to dust. All I ask is your loyalty in return.” My mother spun around gazing at random individuals in the crowd, addressing them collectively. Her eyes were wild and burned brightly in the diffuse light of the tent.

“Then when do we start?” Kesed replied.

Chapter v

West of Rhages along the Slopes of Mt. Arvant

It had taken my son and I and our new army several long weeks to make the trek to Arvant, first across the vast desert and then into the mountains north of the Assyrian city of Bagh-dadu. Things happened just as Hecate told me they would. Daily I prayed to her for her guidance and wisdom, though I had not heard her voice in some time. I did not worry. She would answer when she was ready. I would wait. Only with her help would I be able to create the magic necessary to achieve my goal, though now on the plain at the mountain’s foot, I felt more powerful than ever.

The one pleasant surprise along the harsh trip was the change in my son’s demeanor. The cowering simp changed that night at the Habiru camp. I still needed to prod him into making forceful actions now and again, but he took to the violence and cruelty necessary to rule without hesitation. This change in him would prove vital when I finally announced that he, not Kesed, would be their ruler once I reached the sacred mountaintop and then established his kingdom in nearby Rhages. I had other needs for Kesed. He was strong and ruthless, but smart. And his men were loyal to him, which meant he needed to remain in control—for now. The trick would be in controlling him.

We were such a large caravan that bandits and robbers left us alone, though I allowed small bands of the Habiru to raid towns and villages as they desired. It kept their spirits up during the journey through the bleak land. I needed them enthusiastic when we reached the mountain. They would have to fight neighboring chieftains and clans many times to help me secure and maintain control over it.

This mountain was the source of great power and I could foresee that this land would see many conflicts in the generations yet to come. Even now, pilgrims traveled to it for reasons they could not explain. Rulers will be drawn to and fight for control of the mountain and its surrounding lands for reasons they cannot even comprehend, but eventually the battles will turn broader and ultimately focus on beliefs. Wretched mortals—scrabbling like ants over a scrap of food they cannot even eat.

Hecate told me that the power that runs beneath the mountain is boundless and once I learn how to harness it, I can begin to focus it to help me revenge those who wronged me. I will show the would-be gods that there are those among these humans who are not their playthings. And I will wipe the bloodlines of all those people who persecuted me and lied to me from this world as if they never existed. If it takes me a thousand lifetimes, I will show them all.

As the mountain first appeared, tallest among the peaks in the range around it, it loomed higher and higher against the horizon, and I could feel its pull. Somehow, I was connected to it and it made me feel stronger. All of my powers and abilities seemed sharper and easier to call and control. Invocations that used to take great concentration and focus I found I could will into existence with little more than a thought and I could maintain the effect for longer periods without tiring.

For days as we approached I began gathering the power and storing it, focusing my will to contain it. While all the Habiru gave me a wide berth during our journey, the more power I stored up the more they avoided me. Even Medus kept his distance. I could only imagine that they saw the manifestations of the power surging through me like water boiling over its pot. It pleased me because I needed them not only to fear me, but to be in awe. I needed them compliant. I had no desire to waste my time on building loyalty; I preferred the immediacy of terror. And once we reached the mountain’s peak, I would show them what true fear was.

From its base, the mountain’s peak seemed to pierce the sky. Pilgrims from lands near and far gathered in groups on the rocky landscape that formed the mountain’s foundation. Dozens of supposed seers, prophets and so-called oracles made camps and spoke with throngs of weak-minded fools who sought their wisdom—all for a price of course. It resembled a carnival with numerous tents and performers and crowds of people matched only in number by the wafting smells of incense, bizarre perfumes and foods of all manner that carried across the plain. These fools had no idea what this place was. I needed to be rid of these simpletons and I wanted them to be afraid of ever returning.

“Where should we make camp?” Kesed asked as we neared the other groups at the foot of the mountain’s range. He showed little sign of fatigue from the long journey. He was dressed in his usual sandy colored robes but he left his thickly bearded face uncovered. Early into our journey, the bandit-leader stopped questioning my actions and instead began asking for my direction, though I could still tell he was distrustful of me. He was a wise man.

I pointed to the tallest peak, shrouded by clouds.

He let out a short, derisive laugh and shook his head. “Not today we won’t,” he said. “We’ll set up here and my men and I will tackle that climb starting tomorrow. Then you can follow us up.”

“No,” I replied. “First we must rid this place of these heathens. Have your men ready to fight. There will be many riches among these frauds and these pilgrims will be carrying offerings of great value. They will all be yours.”

“That’s well and good, but there are easily a thousand people here and we are but a few dozen,” Kesed said, surveying the landscape of tents and throngs of people the way a predator looks at a herd of prey. “And we have been traveling for days. My men are in no shape to fight such a lopsided battle.”

“They will only need to pursue the ones who flee and dispatch those that survive what I am about to do,” I said. “Just keep your men here until I am done.”

Kesed cocked and eyebrow at me and then shrugged as he headed back to his people.

Medus approached me with a confused expression. “Mother, did I hear you say we are going to attack these people—right now?” He asked.

“Yes, but stay here until I am finished. What I am about to do will not discriminate who it savages.”

“But I want to help, mother…,” he said.

“And you will,” I said, holding my hand up to stop him, feeling great pride, “But for now, do as I say.”

He nodded and faced the Habiru as they began to spread out, still quite some distance from the makeshift village at the mountain’s foot.

I began walking toward the mountain along a goat path that wound along the edge of the village of tents. As I walked I focused the power I had spent days gathering. I envisioned it like an immense wave upon the ocean, building and increasing in size, only I was holding it back. The strain of keeping it in check this close to the confluence of the Earth’s energy took all my concentration. By the time I reached the first of the tents I could no longer feel the rocky ground beneath my feet, or the cold mountain wind whipping at my hair and face. I could not hear the murmurings of the crowds gathered nor smell anything. In fact, I was being guided by the energy itself. People parted for me and watched me pass but I paid them no attention. I continued, drawn through them toward the very base of the mountain, the wave in my mind straining at my control.

I found myself pulled toward a small rocky outcropping that overlooked a large part of the tent city. From its edge, I gazed down while dozens gathered below as if I was going to address them.

I focused the roiling wave, forcing all of its pent up strength into a knife’s edge and then released it in a blade that sliced through the crowd like the ocean spilling onto the beach in every direction, its roar drowning out the screams of panic and pain. The bright green force sliced through flesh and bone without hindrance, shredded tents, and ripped apart structures as if they were gauze. I continued to draw energy from the mountain and feed the wave until my limbs began to feel like stone. I faltered, the wave stopped and I fell to one knee.

As I regained my senses, exhausted and overwhelmed, hundreds of people and animals below me were lying in pools of blood. No structures remained standing within a half a league of where I stood. I could see Kesed’s men stabbing and slashing at bodies, while the women of the Habiru plundered the remains of both tents and people. And Kesed removed the head of a dying man with his swords. He may think me a devil, but that man was destined to be my demon.

Medus, covered in blood and holding a short sword stained crimson, walked up to the base of the cliff underneath me and then his voice rang out loud and strong.

“Leave enough survivors to spread the word that this place is no longer safe for pilgrims,” Medus shouted.

I smiled. I didn’t need to tell him to say what he said. Hecate was right. I felt vindicated that he was the one I spared all those years ago.

“The world must know never to come here again!” my son screamed.