“I see. Did Gideon’s sword make a similar sound?”
Asha frowned. “No. It didn’t. It didn’t make any sound at all.”
They passed through the village and continued west down the hill and through the fields, following the setting sun. The smell of the cedars faded, replaced by the aroma of dates. They were just about to cross a small stream when Asha stopped short and looked back over her shoulder. Slowly, she drew her hair back from her right ear.
A deep thrum echoed from the east.
Chapter 9
1
Asha stopped at a bend in the road and led the horse off into the tall grass overlooking the plain below. Up in the saddle, Priya stretched and yawned. “Why am I so tired? I was never this tired when I was walking all day.”
Asha shrugged. “If you prefer, I can ride and you can lead the horse across Syria.”
“Actually, I think we could both ride together. It’s not as though we have much baggage with us.”
Asha nodded and swung up into the saddle in front of her friend and took the reins. “We’re almost there, actually. I can see it.”
“What does it look like?”
The city of Damascus spread across the plain below, salting the earth with countless white houses and white temples and white palaces. In that sea of white there rose island after island of green, of towering trees studded with lemons, limes, grapefruits, and oranges. And spearing through the districts were long vineyards and arbors of grapes and olives, long reflecting pools between shining fountains, and broad avenues filled with market stalls beneath brightly colored awnings of red and blue and green.
The temples looked like marble forests, each one ringed by low walls and guarded by slender towers, and in their centers gleamed massive bronze domes. The castles stood here and there throughout the city, some squatting on low hilltops or looming over a bend in a river, some perfectly square and others drawing massive pointed stars through the surrounding neighborhoods with their shield walls.
And everywhere she looked, even from high on the road far away, Asha could see the great thronging masses of people streaming up and down the avenues inside the city, marching up and down the dusty highways leading into the city, and teeming across the verdant fields outside the city with their baskets and carts and animals.
Bells rang, echoing through the city streets, and a lone male voice rose in the distance, singing in low, mournful tones.
“Asha? What’s it like?”
“Oh, sorry. I was just trying to think of some way to describe it without incurring a lecture about something. It’s nice. The city looks nice.”
“Why would I lecture you?”
“I don’t know. Force of habit?”
Priya laughed. “I don’t mean to lecture you. I suppose that sometimes I just want to help you when I think you’re unhappy. And speaking of which, you’ve been very tense and terse over the last few weeks.” The nun’s tone grew as solemn as cold marble. “You’ve spoken rudely to many people on the road who have helped us. And let us not forget how you accused Gideon of being some sort of thief or assassin.”
“I apologized for that,” Asha said.
“Still. I had hoped that our journey into the west would carry you away from your past, away from the things that seem to hang over you like a storm cloud. But here we are, having crossed mountains and deserts and forests, across whole empires, and you don’t seem to have lightened your soul at all.”
“What do you want me to do? Count beads? Recite sutras? Ask Buddha for peace of mind, for the child-like apathy to ignore the monstrous evils that we’ve seen in the past, and that we’re no doubt going to see more of in the future?”
“If that will help, then yes.”
Asha sighed and nudged the horse onward and they rejoined the march of farmers and tradesmen heading down to the white oasis of civilization below.
But as they reached the edge of the plain level with the city itself, Asha saw a surge of people flooding toward the road from the south, pouring down from the hills carrying their children and sacks full of food. She nudged the horse again into a brisk trot and hurried down the road to the dusty intersection where the southerners were joining the rest of the traffic.
“What’s happened?” Asha called out.
The people continued past without sparing a single glance for the women on horseback.
“You, sir!” Asha leaned down to catch a man’s shoulder. He squinted up at her. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
His eyes widened for a moment as he looked at her, but then his expression dimmed and he shook his head. “The Damascena. Have you seen the Damascena? Has she passed through here yet? Have you seen her?”
Asha could only shake her head and the man vanished into the crowd.
“What do you suppose this Damascena is?” Priya asked in her ear.
Asha shrugged. “A woman from Damascus, I suppose.”
“A warlord? Could they be fleeing from this Damascena?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so.” Asha leaned down and caught the attention of an older woman plodding along by herself. “Madam! Please tell us what’s happening.”
The woman squinted up at them. “Get to the city, quick as you can, my girls. It’s terrible, terrible! A golden beast, a giant serpent, coming down from the eastern mountains. It’s larger than anything I’ve ever seen, racing through the highlands and destroying everything in its path. Quickly, get into the city!” And she shuffled on.
“A golden beast?” Priya said.
“It could be another steam train,” Asha said. “Maybe one full of soldiers.”
“But don’t these people know about trains? Wouldn’t that woman have called it a train if it was one, instead of calling it a beast and a serpent?”
“Then maybe it’s some other sort of machine, something new, something these people haven’t seen yet.” Asha rode on into the crowd, shouting questions and straining to hear the answers, but it was all more of the same. More vague descriptions of a golden serpent, more calls for the Damascena, and several shouts for the army to come and save them.
“Perhaps we should go with them,” Priya said. “They could have wounded people with them that we can help, and we might be safer inside the city with them.”
“No.” Asha turned the horse about and drew it to a halt just off the road. “I want to wait here a bit and see what’s coming.”
“You’re not afraid?”
“Not yet.” Asha reached into her bag and pulled out a sprig of thyme, which she began to chew. “If there is anything to be afraid of, I’m sure I’ll hear it coming.”
2
The tide of refugees thinned as the sun crossed its zenith, and a mighty horn blast split the sky, ringing out three high notes in quick succession. Asha turned to watch the company of armed men on horseback ride out from the city. They wore pale blue tunics under leather breastplates studded with steel plates, and upon their heads were conical helmets wrapped with white cloth at their bases.
The company rode swiftly up the road and soon passed Asha and Priya at the crossroads as they turned south and headed up into the hills.
“Shall we?” Asha tapped the horse’s flanks with her heels and set out after the men.
They rode through fragrant fields and orchards higher and higher into the hills above Damascus beneath a sky on fire with rippling sheets of crimson and amber behind endless waves of paper-thin white clouds stretching from horizon to horizon.
“Vultures,” Asha observed. “Lots of them.”
The huge black birds appeared in the distance high above the next valley, swooping and gliding in tighter and tighter circles, hundreds of carrion eaters swirling in to form a maelstrom of dusty feathers and blood encrusted talons.