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Bes broke the surface of the lake gasping for breath. He'd stayed below longer than normal, which was far longer than most. He was a good diver, one of the best. The overseers rewarded him for his skills, giving him extra meat with his meals and sometimes allowing time with the women. Though the meat was appreciated, the time among the women was not. It always reminded him of how repulsive they though he was, how even his status did not overshadow the deformities his labor had wrought. He shook his head to clear the images and the water from his mat of hair then stroked toward the shore and the awaiting collectors. The collectors, covered in their suits of woven rock fiber stepped away as he emerged from the cold water. He reached back then swung the full basket off his back, dropping it before his webbed feet. Unlike his other deliveries the basket held one large piece of kipande, the stone-like substance emitting a faint blue glow.
"By the Creator!" one of the overseers exclaimed through her mesh mask. "It's huge!"
Bes flashed his ragged smile. "More meat?"
The overseer nodded. "Much more."
Bes nodded. He turned to return to the water when he felt a clothed hand on his shoulder.
"Wait," the overseer said. "A sonchai wishes to see you."
Bes cringed. It had been a long time since a sonchai summoned him but the memory still lingered. In the beginning he saw sonchai almost every day. They beat him and constantly cursed him for his small loads of vipande and his short time underwater. But that was before the vipande changed him. Few divers lived long enough to experience the change, but those that did became valuable. Eventually even that wasn't enough. At some point they all disappeared, claimed by the water, the beasts, or the sonchai.
The collector handed him a suit. "Put this on then follow me."
Bes forced himself into the suit, knowing better not to complain of the ill fit. He followed the collector from the rocky shore up the steep slope to the observation platform. The sonchai waited, a tall broad shouldered man covered in a loose white robe, his black curled hair cut close to his head. Unlike the collector he wore no protection.
The sonchai studied him before speaking.
"Do you have any items you own?" he asked.
Bes shook his head.
"Good. You are not a diver anymore. You serve me."
The sonchai turned and walked away. Bes stood still, trying to understand what was happening. The collector shoved him.
"Go on! You belong to him now. Go!"
Bes stumbled on, following the sonchai. He glanced back in time to catch the collector disappear below the horizon then hurried after the sonchai.
The sonchai walked up to a basket like object with a round orb floating overhead. He crept up to the basket then peered inside. A large ceramic gourd filled the center, its sides lined with vipande. Blue light streamed from the gourd and into the large orb. Bes had heard much of the power of the stones he brought to the surface but he'd never actually see it used.
The sonchai climbed inside the basket. He looked at Bes then waved him forward.
"Untie the rope then get inside," he commanded.
Bes did as he was told then clambered inside, his long limbs making such a task more cumbersome than it should have been.
The sonchai waved his hand over the gourd, his lips moving. As he stepped away the blue glow became intense light, so bright Bes had to look away. To his shock the basket and the orb lifted from the ground. He threw out his arms, grasping the basket rim in terror. The sonchai smirked.
“You will become used to this,” he said. “For you will feed the joka’s belly.”
Despair gripped Bes and he curled into a ball. So he was to be fed to a joka.
“Please, master,” he said. “Do not feed me to the joka! I am a good worker. I can dive deeper than anyone. I am also very strong.”
The sonchai looked puzzled then laughed.
“You misunderstand me, but I can see why. You have no idea what you are to do. You are a good worker, Bes. After transformation you will be perfect.”
The sonchai’s words did nothing to soothe Bes’s fear. Miles and miles of jagged landscape passed under them as they ascended into the mountainous land surrounding the cold lake. The air weakened as such a height and Bes found it difficult to breathe. Just when he thought he would suffocate the craft descended. It landed with a jolt, bouncing Bes off the floor boards.
“Get out,” the sonchai said.
Bes unraveled then stood. He peeked over the basket’s edge to spy his new surroundings. At first he thought he was in the midst of barren peaks, but as he strained his eyes he realized the narrow grey columns were buildings, their surfaces speckled with windows, their pinnacles spouting black smoke.
He clambered out of the basket then cowered before the sonchai.
“What will you have me do?” he said.
“You are unfit as you are now,” the sonchai answered. “Follow me.”
The sonchai strode toward the stone and Bes followed. Others appeared as they drew near, people of various shapes and sizes, all with a look of despair and fatigue on their faces. Bes was not unused to such expressions, but the depth of the emotions in the others’ faces chilled him more than the frigid air pressing against his bare flesh. The sonchai led him into a cluster of squat buildings. These streets teemed with others resembling his new master, each of them looking at him with grim, calculating eyes. He followed the sonchai into a building with tall towers. There were many sonchai inside; they all looked at Bes.
One of the sonchai, a woman with a hard face and piercing green eyes came to him.
“Another candidate for transformation?” she asked.
The sonchai nodded.
“Your timing is perfect. The chamber is empty. I’ll gather the others.”
The woman strode away. The sonchai grabbed Bes’s arm, pulling him forward. He led him across the atrium then down a spiraling staircase. At the bottom of the staircase was a massive door flanked by two bare-chested guards holding wide blade swords. One of them stared at Bes and he turned away.
“What are you waiting for?” the sonchai said. “Open the door!”
The guards sheathed their swords then opened the door. They strained to push the door in, their massive muscles rippling with effort. A blue glow escaped from the chamber as the door opened wider.
“Take him inside then chain him,” the Sonchai said.
Bes could be silent no more.
“Master, do not kill me!” he begged. “I have been a good worker.”
The sonchai laughed. “Do you think I would have brought you this far to kill you? I could have done that at that cesspool where I found you. Consider yourself favored, Bes. Now go inside.”
Bes let the guards take him into the chamber. As soon as he stepped across the threshold he was awed by the source of the glow. The chamber was made of vipande. Never had he seen so much. The room was bare save for the chains in the center. The room was not constructed of kipande stones for there were no mortar seams or signs of separation. It was apparently carved from a solid piece of the mineral, a feat that probably took hundreds of years and thousands of lives.
Bes was still awestruck as the guards shackled him. As they hurried from the room he gazed about, seeing a balcony circling the chamber. A door opened and sonchai filed in until they stood shoulder to shoulder. The sonchai who led him stepped forward, his staff raised.
“May the Creator guide our hands and our hearts,” he said. “What we do, we do in his name. What we do, we do to fulfill his will.”
The others raised their staffs in unison. They joined the master sonchai’s chant, their voices melodic and strong. The muted glow of the room increased with each repetition, the light become so bright Bes shielded his eyes from the glare.
Bes jolted as tendrils of pain pierced his body. He fell to his knees then screamed. The sonchai lied to him. They were killing him, probably experiencing some sort of pleasure from his torture. Rumors of such things traveled among the workers and now in his last moments of life Bes knew them to be true.
His thoughts melted into a fire of pain. He felt he was being pulled apart as the glow became a burning glare. The pain diminished with a pulsing rhythm. Feeling and hearing returned to him as the sonchai’ chants overtook his moans. He felt the coldness of the vipande floor and his trembling body. Warm hands lifted him to his knees; he sat still as a thick metal collar was fitted around his neck then bolted into place. The guards grunted as they lifted him to his feet then prodded him from the chamber.
When his eyes finally cleared he looked down upon the sonchai. The man walked around him, looking him up and down as he nodded. He ended his inspection standing before him.
“Good,” he said.
The woman came to stand beside him.
“He’s our best yet,” she said.
“The divers were right,” the sonchai said. “He’s very malleable. The vipande favors him.”
He looked to the guards.
“Take him to the blacksmith,” he ordered.
There was fear in the guards’ eyes as they tugged on the thick chain attached to his collar. Bes didn’t protest; he was happy to be alive. He strained to lift his legs, following the guards out of the chamber. He glanced at the sonchai. The man smiled, nodded his approval as he entered the atrium. He regained his strength with each step. As they left the city and approached the looming mountains he was striding. Sunlight barely penetrated the thick clouds, casting a muted light into the dark valley. The road led to a massive building resembling the mountains surrounding it. A small river flowed through it and a plume of smoke rose from the peak like a simmering volcano. The road plunged into the valley, forcing Bes and the guards to walk gingerly. Once they reached the valley floor the guards stopped.
“We must rest and eat,” one of the guards said. “Are you hungry?”
“I hope not,” the other guard said. “We don’t have enough food for him. He’s too damn big.”
“I am not hungry,” Bes said.
He waited patiently as the guards secured his chain around a nearby tree then built a fire. Bes inspected his new form as the men brewed a thick road stew. His arms and legs were much larger than before, his skin rippling as he flexed his hands and feet. His skin had darkened from deep umber to black. Bes look closer; he seemed to emit a faint blue glow resembling kipande. He wondered what his face looked like. Was it better, the same, or worse? The guards didn’t seem to notice and the sonchai never cared. It didn’t matter; he knew that once he entered the smoking building he would probably never leave.
The guards finished their meal then unchained him from the tree. The size of the building made it appear closer than it actually was. They lost what little sunlight the grey sky shared after a few hours but continued to walk through the bitter cold darkness, guided by the pulsing glow of their destination. The building became a living thing as a sound resembling a breathing beast reached their ears. Two hours later they stood before it. There was no sign of an entrance; the rhythmic sounds emitting from it almost deafening. The guards looked at each other, obviously puzzled about what to do next.
“We should leave him here,” one of them said.
“No!” the other replied. “If he runs away it will be our heads.”
Bes walked up to the building. He ran his hands across the surface, amazed by its smoothness. Touching the structure was like touching a living thing.
A line of light appeared on the surface and Bes stepped back. A door appeared, releasing heat and light from the building. A man stepped before him, a huge brute almost as tall as Bes and just as broad. A leather apron covered his body from chest to his ankles; his scarred face clean shaven.
“What is this?” the man said. His deep voice vibrated inside Bes’s gut.
The guards bowed immediately.
“The sonchai sends you assistance,” one of them said.
The man scrutinized Bes. He balled his massive hands into fist and began striking him, hitting his shoulders, arms, midsection and legs. Though Bes barely felt the blows, he could imagine that such punishment would crush a normal man. A slight smile came to the man’s face after his brutal inspection.
“Zenaga has done well,” he said. “Maybe too well. We will see.”
His smile fled as he turned his attentions to the guards.
“You may go,” he said.
The guards stepped closer. “It is dark and the cold bites like a wolf. We were hoping we could stay the night.”
“No,” the man said. He took Bes’s chain in his hand then led him inside the building.
“I am Mhunzi,” he said. “You will do as I say.”
Bes nodded. “What do we do?”
Mhunzi turned to stare at Bes. “We make jokas.”
Bes followed Mhunzi to the heart of the building, a massive furnace that towered to the high ceiling. The heat increased as they neared; Bes’s new body became wet with sweat. Bes stopped as the heat became unbearable.
“I cannot,” he said. “It’s too hot.”
Mhunzi smiled. “You can’t now. By the time we’re done you will be. The vipande in you will see to that.”
Mhunzi dropped Bes’s chain then continued toward the furnace. His destination was a table beside the furnace. He gathered a few items into his arms then returned to Bes.
“You will wear this when you work for now.”
Mhunzi gave him an apron similar to what he wore and a pair of goggles.
“Come, I will show you the frames.”
Bes followed Mhunzi into a chamber he didn’t notice earlier. Rows of skeleton-like structures stretched the length of the room.
“The sonchai think I work too slowly,” Mhunzi said. “They say the Creator is impatient for them to complete his work which is why they sent you. I tried to tell them that you cannot hurry perfection but they refuse to listen.”
Bes stepped away from Mhunzi. To talk foul of the sonchai was to invite their wrath. He’d never done so, but he’s seen what happened to those who did. Mhunzi noticed and grabbed his chain. He pulled Bes toward him.
“Do not be afraid of them,” he said. “What I teach you will make you valuable beyond measure, even to the sonchai. I will share with you secrets passed down to me from my father, which were passed to him from his father, which were passed down to him from his father. We have our own nyama.”
Mhunzi took him closer.
“We will bring them to life, Bes,” he said. “We will build their hearts, their skin, their eyes and their wings. The joka will soar again.”
“You can do such a thing?” Bes asked.
“Yes I can,” Mhunzi said. “And you will too. It will take time to teach you. You must pay attention and work hard. When you earn my approval I will remove your chain. Can you do this, Bes?”
The thought of freedom sent a surge of energy through Bes.
“Yes I can,” he said.
Mhunzi studied him for a moment before responding.
“We will see.”
And so Bes became Mhunzi’s apprentice. In the beginning he was muscle only, carrying great swaths of metal to and from the furnace while Mhunzi shaped them with his hammers. Once the metal was formed Bes held the massive sheets in place as Mhunzi fastened them to the frames. Soon the blacksmith taught Bes how to hammer the metal, his massive strength shortening the task. They worked day and night; Mhunzi needing little sleep, Bes needing none. He craved no food as well, his body feeding off the vipande fused into his being. Thirteen moons after arriving at the foundry the joka were complete. Bes looked at them with pride; never before had he built anything with his hands.
“We are finished,” Mhunzi said. His voice carried the sound of melancholy.
“The sonchai will be pleased,” Bes said. “They would share more food with me, if I needed it. Maybe they will give my portion to you.”
“I want nothing from them,” he said.
“What do we do now?” Bes asked.
“We summon the sonchai,” Mhunzi said. “And they will bring the joka to life.”
Bes looked puzzled. “Bring them to life? But they are metal, like wagons.”
Mhunzi looked at Bes, his face bemused.
“You have no idea what we have created,” he said.
Bes shook his head.
“You will soon,” Mhunzi said.
The sonchai arrived a week later. They came in a procession of wagons and slaves, snaking from the mountains to the open plains. Bes watched them as they arrived, surprised at how he felt. There was no fear in him, only curiosity. Mhunzi taught him not to dread them, and the kipande within him gave him further confidence.
“Let us meet our employers,” Mhunzi said.
They opened the massive doors then ambled to the sonchai. Bes remembered each one as he nodded slightly at their approach. Their reaction to him was much different than before. Most were clearly disturbed by his presence, a few actually looked apprehensive. The sonchai whom he once called master displayed no emotion as he inspected Bes. He nodded his head.
Mhunzi stood before the sonchai. The sonchai folded his arms behind his back then grinned.
“Mhunzi,” he said.
“Kiros,” Mhunzi said.
Bes’s eyebrows rose. He’d never heard a sonchai’s name before.
“Our joka are ready?” Kiros asked.
“Yes,” Mhunzi replied.
“The slave was helpful I see,” Kiros said.
“Bes was most helpful,” Mhunzi replied, emphasizing Bes’s name.
Kiro smirked. “So he was. Show us.”
Bes and Mhunzi led the entourage through the foundry then into the chamber. There was a drone of approval as the sonchai saw the joka. They immediately swarmed the creations, inspecting them with the assistance of their servants.
“You’ve done well, Mhunzi,” Kiros said. “Can they fly?”
“I have reserved that honor for the sonchai,” Mhunzi replied.
“Excellent.” Kiros looked at Bes.
“Come with me...Bes,” he said.
Bes smiled as he followed Kiros. His work with Mhunzi had earned him some respect. He dared to wonder if all went well it would earn him his freedom. Then he could remain with Mhunzi and build more wonderful machines.
“Open the door,” Kiros commanded.
Bes worked his bulk around the others then opened the door to the joka. Kiros and two sonchai entered followed by servants carrying heavy loads. Bes knew what it was as soon as it passed; vipande. They placed the bundles close to the metal heart which sat just behind the wings. Two thick metal bars attached the wings to gears within it; two smaller bars attached the heart to wheels that supported the joka. The servants evacuated the joka as Kiros and the sonchai settled into the head.
“Bes!” Kiros called out. “Fill the heart!”
Bes opened the first bundle. The enchanted stone didn’t affect him like it did in the past. Instead it felt warm and familiar in his hands. He opened the small hatch to the heart, filled the chamber then closed it.
“Secure the hatch,” Kiros shouted.
Bes went to the hatch. Mhunzi stood outside the door, a worried look on his face.
“What are they doing?” Bes said.
“I don’t know,” Mhunzi said. “I was not given instructions beyond building it.”
Bes closed the door. No sooner had he done so did Kiros and the sonchai begin to chant, waving their hands over the patterned board before them. Bes dared to go to the head then saw the servants opening the massive doors he’d built to the chamber.
“Get back to your place,” Kiros said. “Now.”
Bes slunk back to the heart just as joka began to move. He sat as the joka rolled toward the open doors, the wings gently rising and falling.
The sonchai’ chanting grew louder as the joka increased in speed, passing through the gates and rolling into the bare field. Bes braced himself against the walls. Instead of rigid wood the walls gave to his touch like flesh. He jerked his hand away.
The joka lifted from the ground. Bes tumbled away from the heart as it rose higher and higher. He crawled to the sonchai’s chamber, his large body shaking with fear like a child. There he saw the hills sink below them as the grey skies filled the view. They were flying.
Kiros turned to look at him, his face stern.
“Get back to your place,” he said. “The joka needs more vipande.”
Bes worked his way back to the heart. As he opened it the joka shook with sound. He piled the vipande inside the closed it quickly.
Bes sat for a few more moments before working his way to the sonchai’s chamber again. This time the sonchai ignored him. They flew toward the rim of the Cleave, rising higher and higher until the mountains disappeared below them. The joka angled downward and Bes saw green rolling fields bordered by forests. They were beyond the Cleave, soaring over Ki Khanga. Bes’s stomach churned as pain emerged in his head. He sat, holding his head as strange images formed in his mind, images of a small city at the foothills of the Cleave. He saw short, sturdy men working the rock-filled soil with beasts and plows as women and children trailed behind them, planting seeds into the furrows. He saw merchants behind their stalls in a meager marketplace, trading their wares for food and cloth. Then he saw a boy wrapped in heavy cloth playing beside his mother, a boy he recognized as himself.
The scene in his head was shattered by the cry of a horde of grey-armored men pouring from the hills with weapons and ropes. Bes ran with his mother; pain stabbing his head as his mother fell beside him, an arrow protruding from her neck. A gray man lifted him into the air, tossing him into a wagon like a sack of feed. Then he saw himself swimming the cold waters of the Cleave Sea, a nameless slave seeking vipande for his masters.
He struggled to his feet then gazed from the joka. It circled over a large city. Bes’s fear trickled away, replaced by anger and hate.
“No,” he said. He stood then staggered to the belly of the joka. He opened it, the bright radiation forcing him to look away. He stuck both arms inside, grasping the warm stone the pulling it out. He dropped it at his feet.
“What are you doing?”
Bes stared into Kiros’s angry face. The sonchai strode toward Bes, his face twisted in anger.
“Stopping you,” Bes replied.
The sonchai gestured with his hand. Bes flinched as pain gripped his body, the sensation subsided quickly. He glared at Kiros then strode toward him. Kiros eyes went wide with fear. He gestured again, but his time Bes barely noticed the pain.
“Brothers!” Kiros shouted. “Help me!”
Kiros tried to raise his hand again but Bes caught his arms at the wrists. He twisted his hands outward and Kiros’s arms snapped like twigs. The man cried out as Bes lifted him off his feet then slammed him again and again against the joka walls until he when limp. When Bes finally looked up the other sonchai glared at him.
“You control this thing,” he said. “Turn it around.”
“You do not control us, slave!” one of the sonchai shouted. “We answer only to the Master!”
“I will send you to him as I did this one if you do not turn this thing about!” Bes said. “No one else will suffer as I have. No one!”
The sonchai raised their arms in unison. Bes withstood Kiros’s attack but he suspected he could not survive a unified attack. He leapt forward, surprised by his own speed. He punched, kicked and bit the sonchai until they lay in a pile before him moaning from their wounds. He grabbed the least injured of them then dragged him into the joka’s head.
“Turn us around,” he ordered.
The sonchai waved his hand over the lighted board. The joka veered away. Bes hovered over the sonchai as he flew the joka over the Rim, back into the Cleave. As they penetrated the misty clouds just beyond the Rim the joka lost altitude.
“It’s weak,” the sonchai said. “It needs more vipande, the vipande you took out its belly.”
“Keep flying,” Bes said.
“But we will crash!” the sonchai said.
Bes said nothing.
A snarl came to the sonchai’s face.
“You will die, too!”
Bes did not answer.
The joka fell lower and lower. Bes looked out through its eyes, seeing what he expected. The Cleave Sea shimmered before them, its cold depths waiting.
“No!” the sonchai shouted. He jumped to his right, grapping a small knob then twisting it. A door appeared; he opened it then jumped out.
Bes grinned. He grabbed the other sonchai one by one then threw them out the door. The last was the body of Kiros. He returned to the joka’s eyes, folding his arms as the joka sped toward the Sea.
The impact was stronger than he expected. He burst through the joka’s face, the blow stunning him for a moment. He gasped and choked as the cold water entered his mouth and lungs but he did not panic. He knew what would happen next. His body jerked and quaked as it transformed, gills forming at his neck, webbing emerging between his fingers and toes. He swam weakly at first, gaining strength and confidence as his old experiences emerged. Soon he was speeding away, swimming faster and faster away from the wreckage and the sonchai’ world.
Bes did not know how long he swam, how many days past. His new body needed no rest; the vipande seemed inexhaustible. At some point he would surface to see where his efforts had taken him, but his priority was to swim as far away from the sonchai’s land as possible.
Something hard struck his side. He twisted to see when he was struck again. The blows came in rapid succession, the pain increasing with each blow. He struck out blindly, his fist meeting hard flesh. A large fish-like creature floated away from him, its large blinking eyes filled with emotion. Another creature swam to the stunned one, blocking the wounded one from Bes’s view. Still others gathered around him, staring at him with intelligent eyes. He tried to swim through them but they tightened their ring. For a moment they all swam in place, and then they opened a way for him. They were forcing him to swim where they wanted him to go.
Bes obeyed. Soon he swam in shallow water, bottom rocks scraping his knees and arms. He stood then walked onto the rocky shore. He was far away from his former home, the sky still gray yet of a brighter hue. The air felt warm about him as he watched the fish beings swim into the shallows then transform into large, hulking naked men and women. The largest of them, a woman with intense brown eyes approached him first.
“What are you?” she asked.
Bes did not reply. The others surrounded him. A man stood beside the woman, a grimace on his face.
“The sonchai made him,” the man said. “We should kill him now.”
Bes stepped away, raising his fist.
“We can’t,” the woman said. “Can’t you see it? He’s vipande bound.”
The woman turned her attention back to Bes.
“Did the sonchai of Zenaga do this to you,” she asked.
Bes nodded.
“Do you serve them?” she asked.
Bes shook his head.
“He lies,” the man said.
“Be quiet, Moke,” the woman said.
The woman touched her palm to her head.
“I am Livanga of the Tyrak,” she said. “This is my pod. We are guardians of the Cleave. We make sure that nothing enters...and nothing leaves.”
Bes raised his hands higher.
“Do you serve the sonchai?” he asked.
“No,” Livanga answered. “Far from it. We serve Eda.”
Bes lowered his hands. He knew Eda from his former life. If this beings served her then he had no need to fear.
“Please, come with us,” she said. “It is obvious that Eda sent you to us to show us what the sonchai are capable of. Events are moving faster than expected. The time of trial in near.”
“Time of trial?” Bes asked.
“We will take you to our islands,” she said. “All will be explained.
“This is not wise,” Moke said. “He could be lying.”
Livanga regarded Bes for a moment then smiled.
“No, I think not. I think he hates the sonchai. Besides, he is vipande bound. We couldn’t hurt him if we tried.”
Livanga tilted her head sharply and the others returned to the water, transforming as they descended. She shared an easy smile with Bes.
“Please, come with us. You are safe with us. At least for a time.”
The woman turned away, wading into the deep water. Bes followed.
Livanga turned to look at him as she transformed.
“I ask you again. What is your name?” she asked.
He looked at the woman and smile.
“Bes.”
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-End-