The woman rose then and looked each of the ancient Spewers directly in the eye as she spoke. While her words had the hushed tones of reverence, it was also tinged with a conviction that made each syllable seem like a proclamation.
“This
A collective gasp arose from the crowd and one of the male elders waved his hand toward the congregation as he stepped forward. His face was marked with the scars of infection, twisted into a mask of craters and blemishes; he studied Tanner through eyes that were watery and blue, perfectly veiling any emotion that may have stirred within.
“What have you to say for yourself, clear skin? How do you answer to these crimes charged against you?”
Tanner smirked at the old man and his back popped as he ignored the pain and straightened his posture. The crowd leaned forward and seemed to hold their breath in unison. Though his voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper, the silence was so complete that not a single word was lost.
“What would you do,” he asked, “if there was a rabid wolf in your village? Just let it wander around? Or would you kill it where it stood?”
The Spewer called Lila stepped in front of him with her nostrils flaring wide.
“These were not wolves.” She hissed. “These were my people.”
Tanner sniffed once and cocked his head as his chest swelled with bravado.
“They were a threat to my daughter.”
Lila’s head whipped forward, so close now that their noses nearly touched. With a brow furrowed by anger, her rancid breath washed over him as she shouted, “
Hands pulled the woman away from Tanner, but her gaze remained linked with his. For a moment, the rest of the village faded into an indistinct blur: there was nothing more than Lila’s blue eyes, burning with a hatred matched only by his own, and the scowl that distorted her face into a nightmare mask hungry for blood.
“Why should we not find you guilty of the charges brought against you, clear skin? Speak now and sway our judgment if you can.”
These so called people were barbarians. Animals. Nothing he could say would ever change that. So Tanner replied in a soft, steady voice with the only words that seemed to matter: “I will do my duty to my family and community. I will serve mankind and cleanse the world of blight. I will lay down my life so that others might live.”
“Have you nothing else to say for yourself, clear skin?”
“I will do my duty to my family and community, I will serve mankind and cleanse the world of blight…”
“So be it.” The female elder proclaimed with a sigh. “In accordance with the way of The People, the Council of Elders commit you to the hands of Death. May your ancestors always walk with you.”
Tanner crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the stars for what he suspected to be the last time. He only hoped the members of his community would ensure that Shayla knew her father hadn’t died without cause or reason, that she would grow up with a certain amount of pride for who he’d been.
“I will give my life,” he said to the heavens, “so that others might live.”
VI.
As the sentence was pronounced, Lila touched the cog shaped pendant dangling from her neck and allowed herself the hint of a smile. She could feel Tolek with her; his presence was like a warmth that spread through her bosom, a gentle tingling that cleansed her spirit of anger and resentment. After nearly two years, the justice his soul deserved was finally at hand and peace would be his.
“My husband,” she whispered, “it is right that you are here.”
She realized, of course, that in all likelihood this wasn’t the same Sweeper who’d slain her mate. This one, she believed, was a little taller. His shoulders were more broad and there was a different air about him, a pride that couldn’t be squelched by mere capture. When told he was about to die, he didn’t fall onto his knees and plead for his life. No tears streamed from his eyes. He simply looked into the sky and repeated the same words again and again in a voice she associated with prayer. If things were different, he would have fit right in with the hunters of the tribe of Clay.
Shame warmed Lila’s cheeks and she clenched the cog so tightly that it dug into her fingers. It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t admire the man who’d butchered Myra and Jarnell, shouldn’t afford him even the smallest bit of esteem. He was bloodthirsty and merciless, a killer whose heart held no room for compassion. Even now, with the end at hand, he was unrepentant. If allowed to live, how many more would he slaughter? How many of her brothers and sisters would fall before the might of his weapon?
“Forgive me, my ancestors, for I have wronged you in thought, if not deed.”
Snapping her attention back to the ceremony, Lila realized that she had missed most of the official decrees. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even heard the appeals to the Great Spirit, the request for Her hand to guide the Blade of Judgment, for the blow to be swift and decisive.
The ring of people surrounding the clear skin shifted, closing in ranks so that they now formed two straight lines of bodies instead of a circle. Since she was the one who brought the crimes to the attention of the Elders, Lila took her rightful place by their side and held her spear high in salute.
At the far end of the corridor created by the rows of her people, a small figure appeared. Silhouetted by a campfire at its back, it walked forward slowly. Its hands were held in front of its chest, palms turned skyward as if in supplication, and as the shadow grew closer it became obvious that the Blade of Judgment lay across those tiny hands.
In accordance with the Way of The People, the blade was to be delivered unto the Elders by the one who’d known the least amount of years in this life. As this youngling eased in the flickering pools of light and shadow cast by torches, his features began to resolve from the darkness. His face was round and pudgy with red hair that swayed against the tops of his shoulders. A mask of freckles smattered the bridge of his nose and his blue eyes twinkled in the firelight like a pair of gemstones. At three and half years old, his pudgy body had not yet been marked by the infection The People carried within their blood. That would come later, when the hormones of puberty awakened the Gabriel Virus and forced the blisters to rise from the skin. But for now he was angelic and unmarred, an example of perfection in an flawed world.
As she watched him, Lila felt herself standing a little taller. With her shoulders thrown back slightly, she struggled to restrain the broad smile that threatened to creep across her face. He was so handsome and serious, the Blade Bearer, both innocent and regal at the same time.
“Our son.” Lila silently said to the spirit of her husband. “Asham will be strong and virtuous, like his father. He will bring us honor.”
The little boy walked so slowly that it almost seemed as though he feared moving too quickly would be an affront to the tribe. His eyes stared at the dagger in his hands, studying the shiny silver blade that disappeared into a hilt of polished mahogany, and as his feet shuffled along the dusty path the men and women of the tribe lowered their heads with his passing.
The drums had begun now. Slow and plodding, the deep notes echoed through the silence of the night. Whether intentional or subconsciously, Asham’s steps fell in rhythm with the beat. Each time his small foot struck the ground, a boom resonated so loudly that it seemed as if the very earth were quaking beneath his heels.
“It is right that our son carries the Blade.” Lila mused. “Tolek will be avenged and Asham will go into life knowing he has honored his father above all things.”
The Clear skin no longer looked at the sky. He glanced over his shoulder at the boy approaching him and Lila
