The unseen demon bit him again while the pincered monster scuttled over, one of its carapaced legs stabbing through the skin and bone of his right hip as it hurried to feed. With his spine severed, Tau could not feel the leg or his rib cage being torn open by the two demons. He could hear them, though, as they slopped up his innards and shook his body with their jostling.
When a third demon got to him, there was only room for it by his head. It bit into his cheek and jaw, its teeth slicing into him and tearing the ruined flesh from his face. That he felt, and the pain shattered him, splitting his consciousness into a thousand slivers, each one a suffering, a scourging without end. Tau’s tongue, mouth, and jaw had been torn to shreds, but as he died he found a way to scream.
He came back to the world in sections. He sensed a leg, his mouth, the beating of his heart, his eyes. His own body was disjointed, a thing apart, hard to reconcile and impossible, in those early breaths, to control. Moving from Uhmlaba to Isihogo was always hard. It incapacitated men inexperienced with it. Dying to demons was infinitely worse.
Tau opened his eyes. He was on the ground at the edge of the practice yards, moaning, rocking. No time had passed, but he had been to the underworld, fought there, almost taken its power into himself and come close to a true death. His nerves were on fire, his limbs trembled, and his mind was misery.
He tried to sit, couldn’t, and lay still, waiting for the shock to pass, the loamy ground warm against his cheek and lips. He’d soiled himself.
It was in this state of suffering and degradation that Tau knew he’d been given everything he wanted. The Goddess had answered his prayers. She’d shown him how to make one span worth a hundred, one cycle worth a lifetime.
Her gift was a generous one. If accepted, it would make him the greatest warrior in Omehi history, and all he had to do was fight and die to Isihogo’s demons over and over and over again.
COUNT
What sme… Whassat smell?” Chinedu coughed out. “Tau, that you?”
“It’s not me,” Tau said, rolling out of his cot, eyes heavy, head heavier.
“Is that you, still in bed,” Chinedu clarified.
Tau thought he’d been able to wash himself well enough the night before. He’d been so tired, though.
“Surprised is all,” Chinedu said. “First time I’m up before you, neh?”
“It was a long night in the yards.”
“Not sure how much… how much value is in it.” Chinedu raised his hands, empty palms facing Tau. “Don’t mean anything by that. Way you fight is… is evidence enough. Just hard to see how swinging a sword at shadows helps, is all.”
“I think you’re right. I won’t stay out as late. Not if it means I’m sleeping in.”
Chinedu chuckled. “Sleeping in? Sun ain’t even up yet.” He buckled on his sword belt. “I’m… off.”
“I’ll be along in a moment,” Tau said, looking around the room filled with sleeping men. Hadith, Uduak, and Yaw were already gone. Tau rushed to catch up, trying to sort out what parts of the night had been normal nightmares and what parts were the nightmares he’d lived through. He touched his jaw and cheek. They were there and they were whole, though memory of the attack made the skin tingle.
Tau snatched up his practice swords, belt, and gambeson, which did smell like dung. He’d have to rush through the early practice, make an excuse, and wash it again. He’d have to go through the afternoon without it.
Tau strode for the barracks door, spotting the demon a breath before it could take him. With no time to yell a warning, he threw himself to the floor and rolled back to his feet, swords drawn, facing the shadows and nothing more.
“Cek! What’re you done?” asked Mavuto, still half-asleep and sitting up. “Tau?”
“Nothing,” Tau told his lanky sword brother. The demon was gone. It had never been. “It’s nothing.”
“What’s that smell?”
“What? Go back to sleep, Mavuto.”
The man grumbled, lay down, and pulled his rough blanket over his head. Tau left and went straight to the bathhouses. Practice would have to wait until he’d scrubbed his body and gambeson. He also needed a quarter span to center himself. He’d thought he’d seen a demon in the barracks.
The rest of the day fell in line with Tau’s routine. He trained hard, sparred well, ate supper at twilight, and went back to the yards alone. He was shaking when he went, because what he meant to do scared him. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that, and as the night deepened, he saw things beyond the yard, in the grasslands, crawling things, things with too many arms and legs. The hairs on his arms rose and his skin went rough, like on those Harvest nights when the air ran cool.
He cautioned himself not to overdo it. He thought to go back to bed to get proper rest. Isihogo would be there for him on the next night, or the one after that, if he needed two days to recover.
Tau wanted to believe his rationalizations more than anything, because the only other thing he could think to do was to sit at the far edge of the practice yard, farthest from the protective walls of the isikolo, where the grasslands began. The only other thing he could think to do was to sit there, slow his breathing, close his eyes, and allow his soul to slip from the world of his birth and into the world of death.
The demons came. Tau fought. They slaughtered him. Back in Uhmlaba he threw up his dinner and crouched in the grasses, heaving until he believed his seeds would come out his mouth. Throat burning from bile, he stood and took a step toward the barracks, but the night was young and would remain that way. Time was different in Isihogo.
Whimpering, cursing himself a coward, Tau sat in the grass, a step away from his spew, and let his soul fly to the prison Ananthi had wrought for Ukufa. He tasted blood. In his fear he’d bitten through his lip.
They came. He drew swords and battled them until a misstep allowed a demon to slice his leg off below the knee. He dropped to the ground and that was it. They had him and he was brutalized.
He went back. A pack of them found him and, losing his nerve, Tau dropped his swords and fled. They ran him down, the fastest of them ending Tau’s flight when it caught and tore the tendons in his calf with its hand’s-length claws. He went down and they had him. He begged and he pled. “Mercy,” he said, “Goddess’s mercy.” If they or She heard, it made no difference. He was eviscerated.
He went back. Only one found him. It was a war between them, like the stories old men told children around blistering fires meant to keep the darkness at bay.
The demon had two arms and walked on two legs. It behaved like a human, and this Tau understood. This he could fight. They roared at each other and fought bitterly, two demigods, their battle holding the fate of creation in its balance. Then the demon caught Tau across the throat, slicing him from ear to ear.
He collapsed, gulping for air and tasting copper. The demon stood over him, eyes glowing red as it watched his lifeblood pump through the trench it had carved in his neck.
Tau’s head lolled. He was dying. It hurt. It hurt so much and it hurt every time. The skin around the wound burned and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, desperate to keep him alive. Just let me die, he thought.
He rolled his eyes to the demon’s face. It had tusks and where its nose should have been there was a slitted hole. Tau couldn’t speak but tried to goad it, tried to make it put him out of his misery. It made no move, letting him suffer, watching him bleed to death.