Darren Shan - The Thin Executioner

“ AND THE DYING ONE IS YOUR SACRIFICE?”

“Yes,” Jebel said.

“Wait!” Qasr Bint shouted. “The boy and his slave don’t matter. They’re just—”

“ YOU HAVE QUESTED?” the voice asked Jebel. “ YOU OBEYED THE RULES OF THE QUEST AND TRAVELED ONLY BY LAND?”

“Yes,” said Jebel.

“ THEN I WILL HEAR YOUR PETITION.”

“No!” Qasr Bint screamed. “You will listen to me ! I am of the true faith, not a false idolater like—”

“ I CARE NOTHING FOR FAITHS,” the voice cut him short. “ I CARE ONLY FOR THE TRUTH. YOU ARE NOT A QUESTER. YOU LIED TO ME. SO FOR YOU AND YOUR FOLLOWERS, THERE SHALL BE ONLY THIS .”

The ball of fire exploded. Flames covered Qasr Bint and the last of the Um Biyara. They shrieked and thrashed around the cave as their skin bubbled away and their bones turned black, but their agonies were short-lived. They collapsed within seconds and were mounds of ash moments later — then not even that, blown away by a soft breeze that came from somewhere deep within the cave.

With no one to support him, Tel Hesani dropped to the floor. Jebel ducked to help him. He laid the Um Kheshabah flat, then tore off his tunic and jammed it into the hole in the man’s chest, trying to stop the flow of blood. Tel Hesani gazed at Jebel with a resigned expression. He shook his head and smiled faintly. “No use,” he whispered.

“No!” Jebel moaned. “I won’t let you die! I’ll—”

“ QUESTER,” came the voice of the fire. When he looked up, a giant cobra with a man’s face hung in the air. Flames of gold ran up and down the snake’s spine, and its eyes were fiery red. It was the god he had traveled all this way to see — Sabbah Eid.

“ YOU ARE A TRUE HERO,” Sabbah Eid said. “ COMPLETE YOUR QUEST AND RECEIVE YOUR REWARD.”

Jebel stared at the god and didn’t reply.

“ HURRY, BOY. THE SLAVE IS DYING. KILL HIM QUICKLY BEFORE HE IS LOST TO YOU.”

“No,” Jebel said softly.

“Jebel!” the Um Kheshabah coughed. “Don’t play… games. Kill… me.”

“No,” Jebel said, without glancing away from Sabbah Eid’s fierce, inhuman eyes. “I won’t. I can’t.”

“But… your quest,” Tel Hesani gasped. “If you… don’t kill… me, you’ll be…” Blood filled his throat, and he couldn’t continue.

Jebel looked away from Sabbah Eid and tilted Tel Hesani’s head to one side, allowing the blood to drain from his mouth. “I don’t care. You’re my friend. I won’t kill you.”

“But… I’m dying… anyway,” Tel Hesani protested weakly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jebel said, tears dripping from his cheeks. “I can’t do it. The gods and my people will damn me for this, but I don’t care about them. I don’t care about anything right now except you.”

Tel Hesani groaned, then gave a weak chuckle. “What a time… to develop… a conscience!” He reached for Jebel’s hand and squeezed. “I am… proud of you… my… friend.”

Tel Hesani smiled at Jebel. As he did, the smile froze, and in the depths of his eyes Jebel caught a brief glimpse of a supernatural river and a boat drifting slowly away from them.

Jebel lowered his friend’s head, closed the unflickering eyelids with his fingers, then said a prayer over the corpse of Tel Hesani and asked his spirit to wait for him awhile, as Jebel was sure he would be joining him soon on Rakhebt Wadak’s ferry of the dead.

Jebel wept over the dead Tel Hesani, silently observed by the floating snake god, Sabbah Eid. As he cried, the serpent shimmered and changed. The flames died away, its coils turned to flesh, and the god transformed into an ancient woman in a blue robe, with long grey hair and warm eyes. The woman said softly, “Jebel?”

Jebel looked up and frowned through his tears. “Who are you?” he gasped.

The woman shrugged. “I have many names. You can call me Sabbah Eid if that is what you are most comfortable with.”

“I don’t understand. Are you Sabbah Eid, or aren’t you?”

“I am,” the woman said. “But I’m many other gods too. Or demons. Or ghosts. It all depends on what a quester expects to find. I alter my shape to suit the demands of those who come in search of me.”

“But you’re a god, aren’t you?” Jebel asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“No. I have some of the powers of a god, but I was born as you were and will die as you will, although I hope to be around for a few more thousand years before death crooks its finger at me.”

“Then Sabbah Eid isn’t real? The legends are lies?”

The woman made a face. “The legends are true to an extent. My powers are real, and although I’m not an actual god, I can take the form and function of one when I have to.”

Jebel stood shakily. “Can you bring Tel Hesani back to life?” he croaked.

The woman shook her head. “Nobody can reclaim a spirit from the lands of the dead. Even the real gods aren’t that powerful.”

Jebel sighed, bid Tel Hesani farewell, then squared his shoulders and glared at the woman. “Go ahead,” he said stiffly. “I’m ready.”

“For what?” the woman asked.

“Death,” Jebel said. “I didn’t make the sacrifice, so you can kill me now. I won’t protest or beg to be spared.”

The woman smiled, and although she was the oldest crone Jebel had ever seen, wrinkled and bent, she was beautiful when she smiled.

“The world is full of vicious people,” she said softly. “It is a violent, dangerous place. That has always been the case, as it will be for a long time to come. But Makhras is not as bad as it was, and hopefully things will continue to improve.

“I am of a race long since gone,” she went on. “For much of our time we lived apart from humans. We thought they were base creatures who could not learn or grow. Towards the end of our age, we realized that we were wrong, and we decided to help them.

“Unfortunately our influence by that time was weak. As death claimed us, we poured the last of our power into a cave and left a sentinel behind to help rid the world of some of its worst tyrants. We spent our final few decades spreading rumors and legends, then all passed on except me. I have remained, alone, sealed in this cave, the last of my kind.”

“How can you get rid of evil people if you’re trapped in a cave?” Jebel asked.

“They come to me,” the woman said. “We sowed the seeds of an enticing legend among races the world over. We told them that a god — spirit, or whatever — lived in this mountain and would grant invincibility and great strength to anyone who made their way here and offered up another person as a sacrifice. We guessed such a promise would draw the more unscrupulous men and women of the world.

“And it has. They’ve come in their droves, the ruthless, the determined, the coldhearted, in search of the power to control others.” She smiled grimly. “They have all perished here, burned to ash like the Um Biyara I just disposed of.”

Jebel gaped at the woman. “You mean you killed all of the questers?”

“I had to,” she sighed. “Most people can be educated and reasoned with, but I don’t have the time or ability to do that. I’m not a teacher, just an executioner.”

Jebel frowned. “But questers have come back. It’s been a long time, but some returned, powerful, invincible, dying only of old age.”

“Yes.” The woman moved forward to cup Jebel’s chin with a hand. Her fingers were warm and softer than Jebel had expected. “Every so often a quester sees the error of his ways as he travels here. He learns compassion and mercy. In most cases such people do not complete their quest but return home or go in search of peace in some faraway corner of the world. But a few carry on, stopping only at the last instant, like you.