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? He was the rabid wolf, the deranged raider whose thrived upon bloodshed and tears. His death would be symbolic, a gesture that would not go unnoticed to all of The People who’d been cut down by his kind.
“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 wondered if the man had made his peace. Had he given himself over to the Great Spirit so that he could find rest and respite when freed from this mortal world?
Again, Lila felt the warmth of embarrassment and she averted her eyes so that her son would not witness the dishonor on his mother’s face. Let this clear skin walk eternity with feet pricked by thorns and with maggots writhing in his hair; let him know what it meant to feel his body decay, to know the ravages of Time and never be free from the torment it wrought. He would wander the caves and mountains, shunned by all things, never to see the faces of his ancestors again. It was what he deserved, what he’d brought upon himself by leading a life of disgrace and infamy. It was just.
By the time Lila raised her eyes again, the boy had neared the clear skin. It would be soon. The time of reckoning was close at hand. Within moments, the drums would cease as the Elders took the Blade from her son; they would then walk to the murderous stranger and, with a final blessing, slit open his throat
Seconds before it happened, Lila tensed. It was almost as though she sensed the man’s intent, as if the universe had presented her with a split-second glimpse of things to come.
As Asham passed the prisoner’s side, the Clear skin sprang into a blur of movement. Within the span of a second, the man had snatched the dagger from her son’s palms and spun around. The little boy cried out and writhed like a snared animal, but the Sweeper’s strong arm pinned the child against his chest. With the Blade of Judgment pressed against Asham’s throat, the wild-eyed clear skin whirled in quick circles.
Lila roared and rushed forward with her spear at the ready as murmurs of panic spread through the congregation like a forest fire. Her advance, however, quickly ended when the stranger bellowed.
“Back! Stay back or I swear to God, I’ll kill him!”
As if to demonstrate his seriousness, the man pressed the blade even more tightly against Asham’s throat.
The child’s eyes pleaded silently to his mother and Lila pictured herself hurling her spear, the shaft sinking into this man’s throat so deeply that it pierced the back of his neck. But what if she missed? Rage trembled her hands and tainted her vision and judgment.
“Let him go!” she commanded. “He is a child. Have you no honor at all?”
“I said back the fuck off!”
Lila could see it in the clear skin’s eyes. The glaze of madness and desperation. Pupils wide and dark, like two black holes leading directly into the void where a soul should have existed.
He would really do it.
Even if it meant his own death, he would kill her child where they stood.