Darren Shan - The Thin Executioner

“Of course, you wouldn’t have to go back to Wadi,” said Tel Hesani. “You could visit other corners of the world, maybe become a trader.”

Jebel glanced up. “Would you come with me?”

“I couldn’t,” Tel Hesani said, staring south. “My wife and children are in Wadi. I’d have to try and save them.”

“But if it was too late…”

Tel Hesani shuddered. “I would go there anyway, to follow them into the realm of the dead. If I fail, I don’t want to live without them.”

Jebel had been poised to suggest a change of direction. He was ready to turn his back on Tubaygat and hail a ride south on one of the boats. But when Tel Hesani said that, Jebel held his tongue. He no longer had the heart for this quest, but if the alternatives were returning to Wadi to die or setting out alone into the world, he figured he might as well carry on. Perhaps a way out of their predicament would present itself farther up the path — but he doubted it.

They picked their way over the al-Meata, making camp each night and sleeping beneath thick rugs. They enjoyed the sun during the day but still had to wrap up warmly, because up this high it was never as hot as it looked. The mountains were ancient and dead, blackened and bare. Grass and wildflowers grew in occasional clumps, but for the most part the rock was unsuitable for plant life.

Large birds nested all over the place. They were able to fly great distances each day in search of food, and since so few predators lived there, it was safe to nest on the ground, among the barren rocks. Jebel and Tel Hesani survived by raiding the nests for eggs and eating the occasional hatchling.

One day they passed a pit in which lay the bones of two men, stripped white by the elements. They stared into the pit as they passed. These were possibly the remains of a quester and his sacrifice. They had come through much and made it so far, only to fall at this late hurdle. It made the pair wonder if a similar fate lay in store for them, if after all they had survived, they’d crash into a pit and perish shy of their goal. Both prayed to be spared such a wretched finale. Whatever lay before them at Tubaygat, they had come too far to fail now. They were determined to make it to the end, no matter how bitter it might prove to be.

Finally, late one afternoon, they rounded a bend and were confronted with the sight of a tall, broad, flat-topped mountain. It was unmistakably Tubaygat. Apart from its unique shape, it was darker than the other peaks, almost a perfect black, and smoke plumed upwards from a series of cracks and vents in the rocks.

They stared at Tubaygat in silence, filled with a sense of awe. Whether it was the home of a god or a mere geographical curiosity, this was a place of great impact, and no human could gaze upon it unmoved.

Tel Hesani looked to Jebel for a decision. “If we push on, we can maybe make it before dark,” he said. “But if you prefer, we can camp and wait for morning. We would have more shelter here.”

Jebel didn’t have to think long. “We’ll continue. I couldn’t sleep now that we’re this close.”

Tel Hesani felt the same, so they marched on. It was almost dusk when they arrived at the base of Tubaygat. They were panting from exertion and also from the heat — the rocks were even hotter here than at Hamata. They had to remove a layer of clothes as they stood in the shadow of the mountain.

There was a cave entrance nearby, nine feet high by seven wide. Large, jagged boulders stood on either side, like rocky sentries. It was the doorway to Sabbah Eid’s cave, exactly as described in the legends of the Um Aineh. According to the stories, only a successful quester and his companion could enter. All others would perish horrifically if they stepped across the threshold.

Jebel and Tel Hesani gulped, then started forward in silence. They passed the boulders and stood gazing into the darkness of the cave.

“Do you go first, or should I walk ahead of you?” Tel Hesani asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jebel said. “Maybe we should enter together.”

“I would like that.” Tel Hesani smiled. “And don’t worry. I’ll be beside you every step of the—”

Something struck the back of his head and he dropped, gasping with pain. Jebel thought a stone had fallen on Tel Hesani, and was bending to help him up, when a loud, angry voice froze the boy to the spot.

“Leave that cur alone, and stand with your hands over your head!”

The voice came from one of the boulders to Jebel’s left. Looking up, he saw half a dozen vicious, ragged creatures, five men and a woman, bone-thin, nicked with cuts and bites, their faces badly scarred, some missing ears, a nose, eyes, fingers. And at the front, the worst of the lot, both ears ripped off, one eye gone, a chunk torn out of his left cheek so that anyone looking at him from the side could see his tongue, was their leader — the crazed, enraged, vengeful Qasr Bint.

As the Um Biyara leapt from the rocks, Tel Hesani struggled to his feet and drew a dagger. He tried to push Jebel behind him, but the boy refused to be shielded. “We fight together!” he cried, drawing a knife of his own.

“Very well, master ,” Tel Hesani said with a wry smile. Then the Um Biyara were upon them.

The zealots outnumbered Jebel and Tel Hesani but were in a worse state than the boy and the Um Kheshabah. The bats and um Gathaah had savaged them, and the road to Tubaygat had drained them even further. Only their hatred had kept them going as their strength failed and survivors dropped along the way. It was by no means an even fight, but Jebel and Tel Hesani stood more of a chance than they would have in a fight with six healthy opponents.

Qasr Bint and three of the men struck at Tel Hesani, leaving the woman and the remaining man to deal with Jebel. The man wielded a spear, the woman a pair of knives. When the man jabbed at Jebel, the boy sidestepped, then deflected the woman’s blades as she followed up. He moved faster than his assailants, and even had time to strike at the man and open a wound on his right shoulder before preparing for the next attack.

To his left, Tel Hesani had killed the foremost of the Um Biyara, but that was no great achievement — the man was almost dead anyway. He had been pushed ahead to distract Tel Hesani as the others launched a coordinated attack. They struck rabidly, snarling and spitting as they dug at him with knives, spears, and sticks, forcing him to retreat.

Jebel’s pair closed in on him again. This time the woman came first, knives twirling, teeth bared. He avoided her first lunge and turned her second blade aside. But he couldn’t dodge the man’s spear as it jabbed into his hip, bounced off the bone, and ripped free of his flesh.

Jebel cried out but didn’t drop his guard. Though the man was too far away to hit, Jebel feinted at him, forcing him to take a half-step back. Then the boy lashed out at the woman and caught her left hand, slicing the top of it wide open, causing her to drop her knife and flail away from him.

Qasr Bint prodded the top of his staff into Tel Hesani’s face, working on his eyes, trying to blind him with the beak of the baby vulture’s head. But Tel Hesani kept his chin low, bobbing his head left and right.

As Jebel avoided another assault, one of the men with Qasr Bint stepped too close to Tel Hesani, and the Um Kheshabah drove his knife deep into the man’s throat. Before Qasr Bint and his remaining companion had time to take advantage of the situation, Tel Hesani slipped out of reach. The advantage was his now, and on a level field he would probably have gone on to dispatch the final pair. But the fragile rock of the al-Meata floor crumbled beneath him as his foot came down. Although there was no pit, the drop of a few inches sent him tumbling. Before he could steady himself, Qasr Bint was over him, screaming triumphantly. Tel Hesani caught a glimpse of the zealot’s staff raised high. Then Qasr Bint drove the tip — which he’d sharpened to a spearlike point — deep into Tel Hesani’s chest, just below his heart.