“We don’t
“That stops the bleeding,” Uzza said. “Bat saliva keeps wounds open. We gather the ingredients for the salve from flowers. We couldn’t survive without it.”
Qasr Bint moved on to the um Gathaah’s beliefs. This was difficult, as the translator found the concepts of the bat people hard to comprehend. Finally, when she had gathered all of the information that she could, she explained for the rest of the missionaries. The um Gathaah believed that bats were sacred representatives of the god of flight. They also believed that bats had been humans once. They were convinced that they would become bats when they died.
“What happens to them after that?” Qasr Bint snapped. “When they stop being a bat, what do these fools think happens then?”
Uzza laughed when the question was translated. “We become different bats,” he said. “We will be bats forever.”
Qasr Bint frowned. He could tell these heathens would be difficult to convert. He had learned from their previous encounters that people with nothing of substance were easy to win over, but those equipped to see out the harsh winters in comfort had no reason to heed the pain-fixated Um Biyara.
“They’re going to slaughter them,” Jebel whispered to Tel Hesani as Qasr Bint consulted his supporters.
“Yes,” Tel Hesani said. “I don’t think they’ll even try to convert them.” He saw one of the um Gathaah children playing with a bat, stroking its ears. His eyes narrowed, and he looked around at the trees full of the flying bloodsuckers.
“Do you remember the um Khathib?” he asked quietly.
“The alligator-worshippers,” said Jebel, nodding.
“They lived in harmony with nature,” Tel Hesani murmured. “The animals of their domain looked upon them as their own. What would have happened if anyone attacked their village?”
“Their foes wouldn’t have lasted long,” Jebel snorted. “The alligators and snakes would have…” He trailed off into silence.
“The Um Biyara are weary and irritable,” Tel Hesani said. “They’re confident after the last massacre and eager to kill. I think they’ll strike tonight.”
“But if the um Gathaah set the bats loose on them…” Jebel’s mouth went dry. “We’re no different from the others, as far as they’re concerned.”
Tel Hesani nodded. “We need to move to the edge of camp and be ready to run.”
“What about the storms?” Jebel asked. “How will we survive?”
Tel Hesani shrugged. “We can face that hurdle later. The only other solution is to warn the Um Biyara and give them the option of a peaceful retreat.”
“No,” Jebel said, his expression hardening. “They have this coming. Let’s take our chances with the snow and leave them to be ripped apart.”
“I normally wouldn’t advocate revenge,” Tel Hesani said, “but in this instance I agree with you. I hope their deaths are painful and slow.”
Jebel was surprised by the bitterness in Tel Hesani’s voice, but he welcomed it. This was no time for fair play. The Um Biyara were due vicious payback.
Jebel and Tel Hesani watched the Um Biyara discussing their plans. When Tel Hesani saw them draw their weapons, he nudged Jebel. The pair stood and edged towards the camp perimeter.
“Where are you going?” a guard challenged them.
“We can see what’s coming,” Tel Hesani said. “We don’t want to be part of it.”
“Stay here,” the guard growled. “You were told not to meddle.”
“We’re not meddling,” Tel Hesani snapped. “We’re getting out of your way.”
The guard squinted at them. “How do I know you won’t sneak out of camp?”
“And go where?” Tel Hesani replied witheringly.
The guard scowled. “Just stay where I can see you,” he barked.
“Of course,” said Tel Hesani, then he and Jebel walked to the edge of the clearing, where they stood, waiting.
At the center of the village, Qasr Bint was ready. He moved ahead of his people and had his proclamation translated for the um Gathaah, who were gathered in front of their guests, listening politely.
“My children, you are deluded,” he began. “You are a degenerate, pitiful, lost tribe. We try to help those who have strayed from the path of true worship, but you are too far removed from it. So, my poor, bat-brained friends, we must rid Makhras of your foul presence. Believe me,” he added as his followers advanced, weapons raised, “we are doing you a favor.”
The um Gathaah had listened with confusion, but when they saw the armed zealots closing in on them, their eyes blazed. As a group they took a step back, lifted their mouths, and whistled sharply, an ear-piercing shriek that echoed around the copse. The Um Biyara halted in surprise, then laughed and started forward again.
A second later, like a roll of thunder, thousands of wings flapped at the same time. Before the Um Biyara could strike, the bats were upon them. They descended in a cloud, hissing, spitting, scratching, biting, blinding. The Um Biyara lashed out at the flying menace, smashing many of the bats to the ground. But there were dozens more to replace each casualty, and they attacked without pause, turning the world around the Um Biyara into a black, red-streaked haze.
Jebel and Tel Hesani only caught the opening salvo. As soon as the bats hit, they ran, tearing through the trees, not pausing to look back. A few bats gave chase, but the majority focused on the Um Biyara. The pair of slaves were able to swat away the scattering of bats that attacked them, and burst out of the copse moments later with just a smattering of shallow bites and scratches.
They paused at the edge of the trees while Tel Hesani found his bearings. Then he led Jebel back the way they’d come, making for the river. They ran in silence, lunging through the snow. They slipped often but never stayed down for long, rising quickly and resuming flight.
Eventually they crested a hill and spotted the churning water of the as-Sudat. The river appeared as a darkly coated snake in the dim light, alive and thrashing.
“Can we… go… that way?” Jebel panted, wiping sweat and snow from his face. He couldn’t see any sign of a path.
“I don’t know,” Tel Hesani said, eyes scrunched up. The clouds parted briefly, and the world was brightened by the moon. “There!” he cried, pointing to a spot farther on. Jebel saw a thin rock bridge crossing the raging river.
“You can’t be serious,” he gasped.
“You have a better plan?” Tel Hesani challenged him.
“We can’t see how wide or thick it is,” Jebel moaned. “Most rock bridges are impassable, even in fine weather. In a storm like this, it would be suicide.”
Tel Hesani paused. “You’re right. We should track downriver to the Erq Assi Jeh.” As he turned to look for a path, the shrieks of bats and the howls of humans were carried to his ears. He cast his gaze back. For a couple of seconds he saw nothing through the swirling snow. Then, as the wind cleared a temporary window, he spotted a handful of figures stumbling after them. There were bats above and around them, but they were hampered by the snow, and the humans were pressing on. Behind them, Tel Hesani spotted the um Gathaah, following at their own pace, waiting to finish off the survivors if the bats failed to kill them all.
“No time,” Tel Hesani said grimly as the snow closed around them again. “The um Gathaah will attack if they spot us. The bridge is our best bet. They won’t follow us over that.”
“Because they’re not mad,” Jebel huffed, then shrugged. “But I agree it’s the only way, so let’s go.”
After much slipping and sliding, and a short climb up a snow-layered bank, the weary pair arrived at the rock bridge. It was bigger than it had looked from afar, thick enough to take the weight of dozens of men. But towards the middle it narrowed alarmingly. It was wide enough to cross on a warm day, if you weren’t afraid of heights and had a good sense of balance. But during a furious snowstorm…
“Maybe we should take our chances with the bats,” Tel Hesani wheezed.
