Bloodline: The Cult of Anubis (Pt. V)

They couldn’t be far, Qatil kept telling himself. He hurriedly explained his fears to Tikka, and for once, she was sober. Or at least wearing her “professional” face. Either way, maybe there might still be hope for her…

It was the morning after the attack, and Qatil’s heightened senses had led them to the edge of the long desert. They were following its edge, not committed to jumping into the wastes without a clear sign. Somewhere out there in the packed clay and sand were the remaining bandits. For what wasn’t the first time, Qatil cursed his lack of preparation. No bows and arrows… improper clothing… no salves or liniments… the list was too long. He reminded himself to pack next time he left his life’s calling.

“Why do you hate women?” Tikka’s voice took him by surprise.

Qatil turned. “What? What do you mean?”

“Women.”

Qatil shrugged. “I don’t hate women.”

Tikka frowned at him, shaking a delicate finger in his face. “Oh yes you do. You joined the men of Anubis and forever swore off us! AND, you treat me like I’m a tree!”

“A tree?”

“A tree.” She huffed at him.

Qatil liked trees. He tried to gain the high ground. “But… I rescued you. If I’d hated women you’d still be getting beaten by that priest. And getting ravished by travelers and pilgrims.”

She spit on the ground in a rather unladylike fashion. “And that is somehow worse than being stuck in the desert, unloved, surviving on low rations, and being captured by bandits then rescued by a monster who’s now taking me BACK to the bandits he took me from?”

Qatil was silent. She did have some valid points. After rescuing her, he’d realized she wasn’t the girl he thought she was… and his feelings for her had shifted. At first he’d thought her noble… he’d thought her abused… taken from her family… used; but then, once he had her in person, he’d been horrified by her crassness… her scatological bent… her silly and stupid ways. He’d wanted her to be a lady… but she’d never learned how… and he was judging her for it.

Of course… he’d never really learned to be a man, either. Raised from when he was young by grandparents, then committed to the god… slept with a prostitute… once… never learned to work the ground, or –

“I see footprints, animal-boy!”

She was right. They’d been following the edge of the brush and in a break to their left, the clear indentations of sandals leading off into the barrenness.

“Are we going out there?” she asked, a note of disbelief in her voice. “We’ll dry up or maybe walk right into Duat!”

Qatil nodded. “We have to. I gave them the blood on accident. But I wouldn’t worry about us ending up in the house of the dead… they’re the ones that’ll be going there.” The thought of a fight tickled through his veins, stimulating something primal and canine. “We have to get them.”

“Or else what?”

Qatil looked her in the face grimly. “Or else the god blood becomes part of man forever… and the rulers will come down from heaven to destroy us.”

She laughed. “Think they’ll need whores?”

Qatil almost rebuked her… then remembered his recent thoughts and repented.

“I need one, Tikka.”

She looked at him wide-eyed. “You do?”

“Yes – you.”

She grinned and swooshed her skirts about. “Right now? Right here?”

“No! Not like that!” Qatil groaned. “Look… you already found the footprints for me. Now we need to figure out how to get the bandits without any getting away. With two of us, and with my powers, we should be able to get them all. I just can’t risk having one flee.”

Tikka smiled. “Your powers? By the gods… I’ll use my powers! It’ll be easy. Just get us close!”

Qatil didn’t think it would be easy… but together, the two of them trudged into the wilderness. The bandits couldn’t be far.

* * *

They’d been walking for about an hour and the dusk was gathering when they first glanced a figure up ahead, surmounting some rocky crags before disappearing down over the edge. Along the way, Tikka had gathered up a few buzzard feathers and a white animal skull she’d found in the sand. Qatil didn’t know his animal skulls, but Tikka claimed it was from a goat-sucker. He was skeptical.

When they spotted the figure, Tikka snickered.

“What is it,” asked Qatil, curious. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m going to have a ridiculously great idea. I can feel it.” she responded.

“An idea?”

She nodded like a bird. “Mmmhmm. Get us over to those rocks – quick! Carry me!”

Qatil willed the transformation and felt the rush of power. Filled with new vitality, he set Tikka on his shoulders and raced on quiet feet to the edge of the rocks. They were further than they appeared and the night wrapped around them quickly.
There, below in the gloom, the group of bandits had already lit a small fire. Its yellow tongues sent licking light across the crags above them. Qatil and Tikka lay on their bellies and listened in to the conversation.

“Craziest thing, that animal,” said a bandit in dull red wool, “like a man-jackal.”

“Yep,” said another from across the fire, “He took that woman away and ripped out Awi’s guts. Awi still owed me 20 pieces, too.”

A laugh echoed up to them. A bandit in a dark-striped shawl threw a stick into the fire and took a swig from a clay jar. “He’s in pieces. Why didn’t ya take some?”

They all laughed.

“My arm’s still killing me,” said the bandit in red. “See the bite?” He showed it, a black gash on a brown arm in the orange firelight. “I feel like I’m getting a fever, too. Chills, like.”

The man in stripes laughed again. “You want chills? Lemme tell you all a story…”

The men leaned closer as the man lowered his voice. It was obviously a tale of the supernatural… and the men were obviously enjoying being both scared and fascinated at the same time.

“…from heaven into hell… grabbed the child… no head… blood like a pig… she ne’r saw it… babies always getting… blinded a man…”

Qatil looked over at Tikka. She was GONE!

“Tikka?” he whispered. “Tikka…?”

Down in the camp there was a movement outside the firelight… and a howl!

“Aaaaarrrrrriiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaiiiiiieeeeee!”

Qatil shivered all over and the men jumped up in fright. An apparition!

“Meeeeeeeen of theeeeeeeee blooooooody swoooooooords!” came a horrible female voice. “I haaaaaaave coooooooome!!!”

Qatil saw it coming closer, suddenly knowing it must be Tikka. The men clutched each other in fear, superstitious like most bandits and barbarians.

She stepped up to the edge of the light. A shining white skull covered her face, and a necklace of feathers lay over her bared chest. She looked like a goddess of lust and death. Qatil hesitated. The men were all looking her way… could he get down behind them?

“Yooooooooouuuuur bloooooood iiiiiiiiissssss miiiiiiiiiiiiine!” she wailed, then screamed at Qatil. “Jump, you sissy!”

Qatil did – right on top of the nearest bandit, quickly dispatching him before he could yell. The others were still transfixed by the half-nude demon goddess.

“Thaaaaaat’ssss riiiiiiiiiiiight,” she wailed, “looooooook at my seeeeeeeexiiiiiiiiineeeeeeeees!”

Two down, three, four… the last turned around too late and met Qatil’s flashing claws and razor teeth. He stood over the dead, panting… a pile of human wreckage illuminated at the borders in flickering copper.

Tikka threw down the skull and laughed. “See? Hilarious!”

Her hips and warmly-lit breasts were suddenly too much for him. The jackal blood leapt.

“Be my woman!” he yelped at her.

“Your woman? Not your whore?”

“Woman! Lady!”

She pressed up next to him. “What about… wife, meanie-head?”

“Wife!” he yelled, lust gripping him.

She laughed, spit on the corpses, and pulled him down to the ground on a pile of blankets prepared for the night by the now-dead bandits.

At some point in the midst of their wild lovemaking, Qatil remembered something important… and then forgot it.
When he remembered the next day… he hoped against hope that it wouldn’t become a problem.

But it was too late.