Jason Hightman - Samurai

T HERE IS ONE THING YOU can count on with evil. Evil will do things you never counted on. Simon St. George hated that fact as much as he detested the African sun. The heat in Kenya was unbearable, and the shadows the sun cast on the trail were hatefully dark, making it difficult to see if a Serpent was ready to leap out of the tall grasses.

And they were hunting Serpent. The possibility of a fiery death was always with him, and Simon found it sickening rather than exciting. His father was quite the opposite. Riding tall in his saddle ahead, Aldric St. George steered his horse with a stern energy, a quiet thrill that a fight could come at any moment.

Aldric insisted on the two of them going on horseback, for ease of movement on the rough terrain, but, looking back jealously at the car in his wake, Simon cursed his old-fashioned ways and yearned for air conditioning.

Behind him, the battered Jeep spit rocks from its wheels, slowly rolling through the ragged countrya neglected dirt road amid long yellow grasses. Beside the worried Kenyan driver sat Alaythia Moore, the beautiful New York artist who lately looked a bit awestruck by the wilds of Africa.

Simon squinted back at her, the dirt on the windows making her nothing but a pretty shadow. He rode up alongside his father. You think shed rather be out here with us?

Aldric focused his eyes on the trail. Simon, keep your mind on the task at hand.

Were miles from the African Dragons, said Simon. We still have to get past the next two villages. I just thought she might be lonely in there.

Its so hot in the sun. Why the devil would she want to be out here?

For the company, said Simon, unhappily. Unless he was lecturing him, his British father was never much good at conversation. Simon wondered how Aldric and Alaythia spent their time alone. He figured they must always be planning strategy, going over the old scrolls and Books of St. George, learning the Serpentine language better, or designing new weaponry. Alaythias skills as a Magician had grown tremendously over the past few months.

Simon turned as the Jeep pulled around them and Alaythia looked out. You have to be sick of the sun by now, she said to Aldric. Why dont you tether the horses to the back and get some shade in the Jeep?

Aldric smiled at her. You mean step into the modern world?

Yes, she said with exasperation. You shouldve left the horses back at the ship.

Alaythia, Simon thought, had just a touch of what he now recognized as New York attitude, with the slight hint of expectation that rich people carry around, which she had yet to completely lose (her grandmother had left her a fair amount of money from a Manhattan real estate fortune, which had soon dwindled away on bad investments and charity giveaways). She leaned out more, her odd beaded necklace clanging on the Jeeps door. Come on, she prompted again. Quit being the angry Warrior and take a break in here.

Well see what you say when that jalopy gets a flat tire, or the transmission goes out, said Aldric. We do things the St. George way. Were not going to drop traditions that have been handed down for centuries.

Simon watched the two of them, surprised to see his father looking relaxed for a moment. That must have been the fifth time hed smiled in the past two daysa record. Alaythia could bring that out in anyone, he thought.

Were coming up on the next village, she said.

This isnt the way I remember it, said the African driver and translator, as he slowed down and let the horses pass, staring at the settlement. There should be more people out. It was a busy little place

Aldric looked alarmed as they neared the town, a sorry set of flat, boxy, falling-apart buildings in faded colors. A very old Ford sat in the high grass, ruined by time and hard rains, proof of Aldrics claim that this was no place for motorcars.

And then, beyond the junked car, a human skeleton lay in the grass.

Halt, Aldric said to his horse, Valsephany.

Simon stopped behind him, having a bit more difficulty with Norayiss, his own stallion.

The skeleton was clean and white, left out in the sun for a long time. Flies scarcely bothered with it. Simon noted with some disgust that an arm had been lost, most likely by scavengers, jackals, perhaps. Hed seen death before, but hadnt quite gotten used to it.

The skull gleamed, a horror made ordinary by the afternoon sun.

What does it mean? he asked his father.

Im not sure, Aldric answered.

Aldric pulled a crossbow closer to him in the saddle, as did Simon. Alaythia had a rifle, its wooden stock covered in runic symbols. She held it closer, leaning out of the Jeep as the driver reluctantly drove it forward.

More death greeted them. Skeletons lined the twisting road, looking as if the people had fallen there in some attempt to escape the tiny town, and no one had bothered to bury them. It was a strange sight, and Simon felt queasy.

The path to the village became yet more riddled with skeletons and bones, and the horses hooves crunched over them, as it was impossible to get around them. Large boulders sat on each side of the road, and Simon noted with alarm that one of the huge rocks was smeared with blood.

Blood?

Two young boys ran toward the St. Georges as they arrived. They were shouting something, terror in their eyes.

Disease, said the translator from the Jeep. Theyre yelling about disease. It is some terrible death let loose here.

What kind of disease? Simon asked, suddenly wanting to turn and ride away.

They dont know, said the translator. Many diseases in Africa. This one works fast, they say. Many days at work. Many people dead. Many dying.

How many days? Aldric asked.

They want medicine, the translator said. They expect medicine from us.

Simon looked at the African boys, feeling terrible, sensing the fear that swirled around them.

We dont have any medicine, barked Aldric, sounding angry, and Simon recognized it as the way he always reacted when he couldnt help. His father moved his horse onward as the two boys ran alongside, pleading. I need to know how many days since the sickness came, he repeated to their driver.

The translator tried to get an answer. They dont know. They are children. They lost track of time

Have there been any fires here? asked Aldric.

The African translated their responses. No. No fires. Just a fire in the heart. Sickness of fire.

Simon trailed behind Aldric, with the Jeep coming up behind them. The translator was becoming more agitated. This sickness is not normal, he said. This death works too quickly. They shouldve gotten word to the last town we were in. No one did.

Aldric kept moving.

This is not right, the translator yelled after him. We should not go farther, this is not right.

It is right said Aldric, for what were looking for.

Alaythia offered the boys a rune-covered canteen of special water. Drink, splash it on you, she advised them. It will protect you.

Seeing they did not understand her, the translator took the canteen and sprinkled some of the water on himself, passing it to the children with a few hopeful words.

Simon looked back. The boys seemed skeptical of her, but they splashed the water on their skins and drank deeply all the same.

Theres not enough water, Aldric complained.

Its something, Alaythia said, sounding annoyed. The mixture is weakening in the sun, but itll help them if they arent already sick. Let them have it.

Theres not enough, repeated Aldric in a grim tone, for they had reached the center of town. He was staring ahead. Amid old, broken-down cars and trucks, there was a group of low, flat buildings. Through the open doors, Simon could see many people lying in beds. He stopped his horse and surveyed his surroundings.