Swords & Dark Magic: The New Sword and Sorcery

He did the only thing he could do. He tossed the grapevine ring so that it landed about Ruwhere’s neck. Her eyes went wide with shock as Qash entered her by his vein, seeking through to Qul. Mad or not, Qul understood the danger, and in an instant severed the conduit. But by then, Fool Wolf had lunged past the sorceress and taken grip on the sword.

He turned and found Ruwhere blazing with godforce and knew that if it weren’t for Chugaachik, he would already be dead. Gasping as his bones began to burn, he threw himself at her, plunging the weapon in deep just below her breastbone. Ruwhere hung on the blade, her eyes gradually calming.

“You’ve done it,” she gasped. “You monster. You don’t understand what…”

But she fell away, and the presence of Qul diminished and then fled from the sword.

“It was only a joke.” Fool Wolf sighed.

He tried to drop the blade, but his head seemed to fill with locusts and his legs began jerking without his permission.

And he knew Ruwhere had been right, and Qash was in him.

He’s trying to make you walk, Chugaachik said. She seemed weak, far away.

“I’m not walking,” he noticed.

Because I’m fighting him. He’s trying to drive me out.

Fool Wolf considered that for a moment. “Can he?”

No. But this is taxing, and I cannot help you like this.

“That’s interesting,” he said. “I wonder if you’re lying. If he might rid me of you, given time.”

He would have you then, always. Do you want that?

“I could drop the sword.”

Not if I’m gone. But you can drop it now. You should drop it now.

Fool Wolf looked at the weapon, considering, seeing possibilities. If Qash forced her out, and he managed to leave the valley, wouldn’t he be free? Qash was a god of place—he would stay. It might be a chance worth taking.

But he didn’t know enough yet.

“Let’s not be in a hurry about this,” Fool Wolf said. “I think I’ll go have a look at those virgins, first.”

Ruwhere hadn’t made any effort to hide her trail, and even without his senses heightened by Chugaachik Fool Wolf was a good tracker. Her path carried him higher up the steepening valley wall, through rattling stands of bamboo and graceful tree ferns, and finally to a series of broad terraces planted in crops that Fool Wolf didn’t recognize. A few men and women working in the fields gave him odd glances, but no one spoke to him.

Above the fields he came to the village, if it could be called that. Tents, lean-tos, and a few crude houses—all clearly recent—clustered thickly around an older, much more solid building, an enormous longhouse of cedar raised up on twelve thick stone pedestals. A lot of people were watching him now, but he didn’t see any with weapons. He strolled toward one of the long ladders that led up to the house as if he belonged there. He almost made it before a young woman stepped in front of him. She was pretty, with a round face and pink cheeks, probably no more than sixteen.

“Who are you?” she demanded. She seemed frightened, but determined.

“My name is Fool Wolf,” he said. “Ruwhere sent me to make sure the virgins are safe.”

“They are,” she said.

He put on his most winning smile. “Might you be one of them?”

She laughed bitterly. “Not for a while,” she said. “You’re a foreigner aren’t you? You don’t know much about this place.” She looked him up and down. “But you wear their armor,” she said.

“I took this from one of them,” he lied. “After I killed him.”

“Maybe you did,” she said. “If so, thank you. But if you serve them, I will find a way to kill you.”

“I take it…” he trailed off.

“We all were,” she said shortly.

He noticed that a crowd had gathered now, mostly women.

“I’ll never bear children,” she said. “That’s how badly they hurt me—and I was lucky. I used to think that was for the best, because I would never have my daughter taken for the ritual. But then Ruwhere freed Qul, and everything has changed.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “You’ll have to kill me if you want them.”

“I don’t want…” he stopped. “How old were you?”

“Older than most. The younger we are, the more we sustain them. Or so they think, anyway.”

Fool Wolf looked up the ladder. He heard a long, piercing wail.

He shoved the girl out of the way, rushed up the bamboo steps. He heard her screaming and felt her weight join his on the ladder.

The longhouse was one vast empty space. A few older people looked up as he entered, but besides them, of the more than a hundred inhabitants of the building, none looked to be over the age of four. Most were infants.

The girl hit him in the back. He ignored her as the sword in his hand hummed in hunger and Chugaachik howled with lust. A wind came through the house, and he smelled juniper.

Hesqel looked down at Fool Wolf from his high seat and smiled.

“You’ve done it,” he said. “You have the sword.”