Callisto

The Wicked (pt. 2)

"Y'know, chief," Jespar panted. "There's some who would call this slave labor."

He said it as he brought another torn wooden beam towards the center of the square and spat it at the structure composed of beams, sticks, scrap wood, and other items gathered from each house in the suburb. Together she and Jespar had built a monument to rival the statue beside it: old tv sets, radios, ruined books, and other equipment that no longer served any purpose to anyone were consigned to the unlit bonfire to burn too. Then, when Rain-Born finally decided it was sizable enough, she nodded to Jespar, and he collapsed.

"You had to say it, didn't ya?" he panted. "Ya had to say you'd help him. Could've just made him a card or something, but nooooo, we had to build him a Goddamn lighthouse."

She knelt beside him and scratched him behind his ears. He purred in pleasure.

"Please," she said. "I would like you to respect the ceremony of the Hanakh. Though you are not one of us and have told me much of your Old World, now you may learn of our world that exists here and now. I believe you to be as noble a hunter as the bravest of our tribe. Like them, you have the honor of watching the spirits rise to walk the path to the Hunting Grounds beyond this world."

He smirked up at her. "Do you serve popcorn or candy at the show?

She flicked him between his eyes, much to his chagrin. "I can offer you some delicious Stalker jerky. Or perhaps some roasted rats?"

He huffed and rolled over on his back. "Can't get enough of 'em."

"You are becoming pampered, Jespar. A hunter does not have the luxury of choosing his meal. A hunter only hunts and lives off the land before him."

"A hunter can kiss my hairy ass," he replied, wiggling his behind. "I need me some meatballs. Or a Sunday roast. Maybe this fire'll attract a nice juicy suckling pig, and I can get my first proper meal in years."

She sighed and shook her head at his lackadaisical whimsy. She should have reprimanded him for his blasphemy if he had not consented to help her with this project.

Then she heard the sounds of wailing coming from the Chainmen's house. It was a wailing that she could close her eyes and recall. Traditionally, brothers and sisters of the Tribe joined arms to let the song flow from their breasts and fill the dead air of the world. It was odd to hear it sung by only one man, carrying a body towards the bonfire. It was the first stanza of the Song of Shadows – the funeral dirge of the Hanakh.

Weeping-Ash came as though he was a royal Elder walking not on the concrete of the suburb road but striding on the air itself. He placed the first body – the male shooter's – on the ground before the bonfire. His hands had been bound in simple cloth, and his eyes were similarly wrapped with soft paper scavenged from the house. With the body placed, Weeping-Ash turned with the grace of a ghostly apparition to fetch the rest. Rain-Born followed him, adding her voice to his song.

Together they carried the bodies to the pyre, slowly lowering them down, each with the respect they would have given to any member of their Tribe. Rain-Born brought the leader of the Chainmen; her ravaged face another grim reminder of the melee that had overcome Rain-Born's senses. She reminded herself that she wasn't doing this for them. She was doing it for a sister she had never had the chance to meet.

Jespar watched them both lay the corpses down upon the beams of the bonfire with curious eyes. He did not cock his head or scratch himself as he usually did when confused. He lay down and placed his small lead over his front paws, watching the spectacle unfold.

Hell, maybe he'd even see some spirits fly in this place. Stranger things had happened in this world.

Both huntress of the House of the Snake and farmer of the House of Ash joined in the song's second stanza, their voices lowering and rising, pitching their limbs high and low as though conducting an orchestra of Tribal voices. As the song reached its fever pitch, Rain-Born stood over the bodies of the fallen and produced the Guthra fire stone from her pack. She held it high above them all, and as Weeping-Ash's voice wavered in the song's final verse, she struck its surface once with her knife.