No Other Gods (12 page)

             
“But we have had dealings with the Arabs, and they have been friends. They have not harmed us as they passed through our land,” a small exaggeration, “and being nomadic, they will not settle.”

             
Dawning awareness and suspicion creased Ershud’s face simultaneously. He was no fool.

             
“Who among the Tang sent you!” he snarled, actually drawing his sword now. He filled his lungs with air, preparing to call for guards.

             
“My lord,” I said. “Wait one moment.” And I took out the token that Ziyahd had given me to prove my proposition.

             
It was a red ruby, a rare gem the size of a robin’s egg. As I unwrapped it in Ershud’s sight it caught the flickering beams of candlelight and began to glow with inner fire. It was a beautiful gem, and it was having an effect on the Yagbu, who, despite being tribal ruler over a numerous people, was not wealthy and had no such jewels. And if he did, it would have long since been sold to pay the Tang tribute. Most importantly, it was the kind of gem that was much more likely to come from Bagdad than Chang’an, the Tang capital. The gem itself, more than the value it embodied, was a proof of my veracity.

             
“I have talked with Ziyahd, the Arab leader. He has no wish to remain here, but wants to defeat the Chinese and return to the caliphate in triumph. If we aid him tomorrow, he will do this. And we will be free.”

             
I could tell Ershud wanted to believe me. I knew that this would work, and the Karluks would be free. But it was also an immense risk. If I was lying, or a traitor, not only would Ershud’s life be forfeit, his people would pay the price.

             
So I unrolled the scroll that Ziyahd had sent with me.

             
“Do you have a scribe? He can tell you what Ziyahd Ibn Salih has said, and written, and sent. He will ally with you, he will not demand tribute, and he will depart these lands.”

             
In reality no scribe was necessary. The vellum scroll was obviously of Arabic origin, entirely unlike Chinese paper, and, even to an unlettered man, there was an obvious difference between the Arabic scrawl and the Tang calligraphy. The scroll itself was the message.

             
“I and my companions will stand with you tomorrow. If we lie, we will die.”

             
That was all I had, the strongest token of truth I could give, so I added the close.

             
“And tomorrow, after you and Ziyahd defeat our Tang oppressors, he will give you nine gems more, each like this one,” I said, placing the ruby in his hand. “It is a gift to a new friend, and a new ally.”

             
Ershud put his sword away. Motioning for me to follow, he returned to the main part of the tent and sat down in his chair, deep in thought. He was making the most important decision of his life — the one that would either create his dynasty or end his life. He looked up, and gazed intently into my eyes. I returned the look, guileless, for over a minute. What I promised would actually happen. I had no problem lying to complete a mission, but such was not required here.

             
Then he turned away, called loudly for a guard, and when he came in, sent him to collect all the captains and leaders who had just been here. He placed the ruby and the scroll in the middle of the carpet, and waited.

             
“I have made my decision,” Ershud said. ”You will stay with me.”

             
The Karluk captains tumbled into the tent within minutes in various states of dress, obviously having been called urgently from their beds. Some looked more flushed and disheveled than others, and I suspected that they had left company, and would be more perturbed at the interruption than others. But it could not have been a unique circumstance to be pulled from any kind of commitment to attend the Yagbu. All of them looked wonderingly at the tall stranger in their leader’s tent.

             
Ershud, like most leaders, gave no thought to apology. He launched into a rapid-fire account of our conversation, and then what sounded like a brief history of the Tang-Karluk relationship. It was clear there was no love lost here, and it was also clear this was a welcome message. Karluk blood had been shed for Tang purposes before, and the tribal leaders were not eager to add to the flow.

             
But they were no fools either, and understood the risks. They questioned me, threatened me. I spoke, showed the scroll, passed the ruby to questioning fingers, met suspicious gazes with open eyes, and told them I would be at their Yagbu’s side during the battle tomorrow. I would strike the first blow against the Tang.

             
At that news, their fears subsided, and they lapsed into a conversation of means, not ends. And then I knew I had them, and I knew our unlikely mission was most likely successful. Another half-hour of discussion and we had a plan. It was close enough to what Ziyahd and I had discussed that it would work, even though I could not now send him a messenger with confirmation. I did send word to my cohort, still at the fire, almost alone now, that all was well. Finally, Ershud’s men went back to their tents and beds, and provided a tent for all of us to sleep in.

             
The next morning we rose with the sun. Kin, Livia, Lind, and Drago, Tonia, German, Sama, and Helo, and I got up and dressed for battle in our eclectic mix of Chinese and homebrew armor. I remembered Jaca, possibly truedead, and thought of my next meeting with Hermes. What would he say, and what would he do? Would we find Jaca in the hall, and feast with him again?

             
Shaking my head to focus on the needs of the day, I strode outside the tent to glorious sunrise. Walking over to Ershud’s command tent, I passed the guard and found him outside the entrance, also gazing at the horizon.

             
“Blood for blood,” Ershud said, waving at the molten clouds and staring intently at my face.

             
“Blood for blood,” I echoed, meeting his gaze. He must have no doubts about the course of the day.

             
Within the hour the Tang commander sent a messenger, followed shortly by a general who would stand with Ershud and coordinate the Karluk army’s movements in conjunction with the Chinese army. The armies decamped and assembled on the plain near the river. I and Livia, with the rest, stood next to Ershud, wearing the loose red tunics which identified the Karluks as allies of the Tang. Ershud caught my eye and jerked his head at the Tang general, his aide, and the messenger. His meaning was clear: they needed to be the first to go. I sent Sama, German, and Helo to stand near them.

             
Finally all were in place, and I could see the battlefield. We were on the north side of the river with the Karluks, on a plain that extended for kilometers down the mountains bounding the valley. Nearer the river were the Tang, a mass of red and dragon sigils on flagpoles. And slightly to the west of us were the Arabs, in desert finery. Perhaps fifty thousand men in this valley getting ready to tear into each other like animals in the hunt. The tension was thick, and the air that we breathed full of fear and pride and passion.

             
With trumpet blasts the armies of the Caliphate unleashed hordes of arrows and charged — but only against the Tang. The line opposite us, opposite the Karluks, merely held their ground. I could see the Chinese general who had been sent to ride herd over Ershud and the Karluks looking around, surprised, and talking to his staff. He motioned to Ershud: attack! But I nodded to Sama, and he with German and Helo moved up behind them, and killed them quickly from behind, covering their mouths to muffle any outcry, jerking their chins back, and slicing their throats. Quick, efficient, deadly.

             
Then I moved forward, catching Ershud’s eye, and taking all my soldiers with me I ripped the red tunic from my shoulders. The world sped up and I plunged into the unprepared flank of the Tang army. Spinning, stabbing, slicing, we ripped into the surprised Chinese soldiers, leaving severed limbs in our wake. Our swords passed almost unobstructed through Chinese scale armor and toughened leather, and none could resist us. In seconds we were deep inside the Chinese army. Then the bulk of the Karluk army, also ripping the scarlet cloths from their bodies, followed our lead. Within minutes the Tang lines were hopelessly divided and confused.

             
German whirled like a dervish through the Tang regiments, spinning so fast he was sometimes engaging three or four enemies at once. Drago and Lind raced into the action side by side, taking on five and ten times their number, destroying entire formations and emerging intact. Kin, Tonia, Livia and I formed a more traditional unit and pushed back the Tang lines, bullying and bashing our way through, opening up a path for Ershud’s warriors to exploit the now irredeemably disorganized center of the Chinese army.

             
Seeing that the Karluks were well and truly engaged, and that elements of Tang were now trying to pull back, realign, and attempt to deal with the new miserable facts of their soon-to-be shortened lives, I called my cohort. And, as planned, we slowly moved from the middle of the forefront of the conflict to the back side, then melted away. It was not our fight, as long as events played out as Hermes wished.

             
We stole away to the temporary camp we had set just the day before, retrieved our steppe ponies, and rode out to the place near the mountains where we had entered this world. Before we left the river valley, on a lookout, we paused and watched the battle below. There was Ershud’s standard and his guard. And we saw Ziyahd’s men, cutting through the remnants of the Tang, much reduced from this morning. The Chinese lines had crumbled. A few remnants were already starting to retreat, perhaps to flee. Most could not — they were surrounded.

             
Soon it would be over. Quarter would not be offered, or accepted.

             
We jogged the ponies down the hill and north along the plain, eager to be away from the death and battle of the river valley. Perhaps twenty thousand men were dying there at this very moment — like Jaca, I thought. I comforted myself with the thought that if we had not engineered an alliance between Ziyahd and Ershud, Arab and Karluk, the two armies might have fought to an even bloodier standstill.

             
But still the waste and the terror and the pain seemed pointless and futile to me. What did it matter that the future of empires would be decided, if even only one fragile human life ended in agony and gouts of blood?

             
Not one of us had been scratched. In the thick of the battle we were simply bigger and stronger and faster. Better armor and better weapons also protected us — from everything but a lucky arrow or mistake on our part. But I could see in all eyes the strain of the last week: a long, hard mission. Soon to be over, I thought.

             
We found our original camp. Kin started a fire, and we sat around it on the ground, not sure what to say to each other. Livia sat to my left, and her hand warmed mine. Then the battle-lust and mission tension drained from us. Weariness swept up, and we settled to the ground, and s.Leep came.

             
As I closed my eyes slowly, fighting the somnolence, my brain slowed. Hermes, I thought. Hermes better have a good reason for this.

             
For Jaca.

To sleep, perchance to dream.

             
- William Shakespeare

I was in the field, the glorious field, the field with swaying golden grasses and gentle summer breezes. Birdsong echoed from fringing trees, and the hum of bees seeking wildflowers filled my ears. A narrow path wound through the field and led …

              I knew where it led. It led to the city of the gods. Hermes had taken me here once, and I had seen the city, if only from a distance. Now I was here alone, without explanation, and a sensation like panic gripped me. What was happening?

             
Suddenly I was possessed with a desire to see, to know, to understand, and I charged through the field like a stallion fording a deep stream, splashing long grass to each side. Shortly, though, the gentle summer warmth and peaceful natural beauty tempered the urgency of my desire and I choose the path. After a time, as if in a dream, the city rose into my view: massive, imposing, glorious.

             
It was tall — the buildings rose to the sky — and fantastical, with immense looping structures like giant stems interwoven in some magical flower-filled jungle, and colorful, with odd but strangely appealing hues mixed through every construct like oil on water, iridescent as the sun’s light glanced off. I knew nothing of cities, yet somehow I knew this one was special, even spectacular.

             
This time, the gate at the end of the path was not closed but ajar. Grasping the cold iron in my hand I paused, recollected my resolve and pushed it open, stepping through, feeling strangely unreal.

             
Soon the dirt path turned into a hard, formed surface made of many small rectangles of multicolored rocks. From the dredges of a forgotten memory a word welled up, I knew not how: cobblestone. Ahead I could see people, walking, and further, large moving objects on the ground and in the air. Another word surfaced: vehicles. Nearer were the fantastical towers I had seen from the field, great looping strands of glass and metal like bootlaces tossed to the ground and frozen mid-fall in intricate twining spirals. Somehow I knew these were filled with apartments, residences with one home for each level. How did I know that?

             
“So the gods do live in the sky, after a fashion,” I mused to myself.

             
As I walked further into the city, the structures grew small, lower. They looked more social, more communal, more — dare I say it —
human
in scale. Gods — I presumed they were gods — were all around, and the murmur of their conversation filled the air. I caught snatches of it …

             
“... could have just instantiated there, but it is pleasant to stroll in the sun …”

             
“... did you see Juliana last night? She …”

             
These gods, if they were gods, seemed just like humans. In fact, rather sillier than most humans I knew. They were not huge and tall, as Hermes often appeared, or ethereal and seemingly all-powerful. They seemed just like I and my soldiers might be, if we were not fighting and dying instead of living and … loving.

             
No one seemed to notice me, or at least they did not remark on me, and I thought I would like to keep it that way.

             
I continued walking — my feet seemed to know the way — and, after a time I could not measure, found my way to the center of the city. There I stopped before a building that rose taller than any others inside the outer ring of city-circling residence towers. Stopped and stared, for it was the most remarkable structure I had ever seen. Which was perhaps not saying much, but again I had a feeling this would be remarkable to just about anyone, no matter how experienced or travelled. Anyone but these “gods,” of course, who just kept walking about their business while I stood frozen, staring, almost gaping.

             
The curious structure was ringed by a thick circular lawn punctuated by four walkways, one at each point of the compass, a continuation of sorts of the avenues which I could now see divided the entire city into four cantons. The building itself was constructed entirely out of glass or some other transparent material: I could see gods or people inside walking, sitting, conversing, the opposite side of the city behind, and a slice of blue sky straight through the top. More impressive was the fact that it was completely and in all respects perfectly spherical. And most impressive of all was the reason I could be so certain of that particular fact … and the reason why it took my breath away: it hovered ten meters above ground, completely unsupported by anything detectable by my eye.

             
The sphere was divided into many levels, at least twenty, with many rooms on each level. I guessed it to be over a hundred meters tall (and wide, if it was truly a sphere), and the transparent material of which it was made was so clear I could see through to the other side without distortion or darkening. And yet I could see the divisions that made floors and ceilings and rooms.

             
I stepped toward the sphere, seeing as I did visitors floating up from directly beneath it, entering via the bottom. Something was tickling in the back of my head, and my growing sense of unreality returned. I had an unaccountable feeling that soon approached a level of moral certainty: I had been here before. More than that, I had been in that sphere, and not just once. In fact, I realized with something like a gasp, I worked there. Which made no sense at all.

             
While I was puzzling out how those facts, so obviously false but feeling so completely correct, an electric pulse shocked through my body. It was all I could do to remain still and innocuous. For, inside, I saw Livia.

             
She was in a small room on the near side of the sphere, looking at some images on a wall, talking to someone I could not see. Perhaps using a communication device of some sort, I guessed.

             
I stood and watched her for minutes, occupied in some activity or labor that I knew nothing of. Then a doorway appeared in her interior glass wall, and a god (man?) walked into her room, and I experienced yet another and even greater shock. He stepped to Livia, touched her arm, bent his head close to hers, and kissed her.

             
I stumbled away from the floating building, from the green lawn. Hurried through the wide avenue I entered. I wanted out — out of this city, out of this everything. For I recognized the god/man who had just kissed Livia. It was Hermes.

             
An explosion flared through my head and I turned away and saw no more.