| SORCEROUS SIGNALS |
| Written by Yeoryios Pantazis / Artwork by Lee Kuruganti |
| Make a donation to this writer |
| The Spirit Shaman |
In Deshnil City, capital of the Realm of Cullus, Zanis had two things to do before resuming his travels
looking for more mercenary work. The first was to refill his waterskin with fresh water, and the second
was to buy the strongest, healthiest horse he could find, one that could endure long journeys. He
wanted to stay in the city for only as long as he had to. He could barely tolerate the guarded stares from
the citizens as he passed by. A tall, wide tribal warrior with a double-edged axe the size of an elephant’s
tusk slung on his back, it was difficult to be unnoticed. He knew he had no place in their civilized cities
and was sure they wanted him to return to his tribe, where they figured he belonged. But he didn’t
belong there anymore.
The ex-tribesman closed in on the nearby inn when something—or, rather, someone—caught his eye and
halted him in his tracks. There, standing out in the crowd, was another of his kind, a tribeswoman from
the Cullus Tribe. He could tell by the red, swirling tattoos all over her body, stretching from her forehead
to her toes, which labelled her as a follower of Itturus, God of the Worms. He wondered if perhaps she
knew he was, or had been, of the Kalsaron Tribe, if, whether or not, she could tell from the engraved
mark on the blade of his axe that labelled him so. She stared back at him, their eyes fixed, citizens
walking between the roughly five meter space that separated them.
One tribesman in a city was rare enough, but two? And a woman no less?
Her dark eyes flashed white for an instant and Zanis speculated whether or not she was a shaman. Then
he noticed the black pearl necklace around her neck that he knew amplified a shaman’s control over godly
sorceries.
What is a shaman doing away from her tribe, alone? Zanis thought. Could she be an oath breaker?
Like me?
The shaman’s thin red lips curled into a half-smile just as a family of citizens walked by her, hiding her
from Zanis’s view. When the family passed, she disappeared. Zanis furrowed his brow. Did I dream it?
he wondered. He ran his gauntleted left arm through his mohawk hair, sighing. Perhaps I should rest a
moment while I’m here. He considered the possibility of feeling homesick, but quickly dismissed the
thought with a smirk. Such feelings for an oath breaker were ludicrous.
He stretched out his neck and then continued down the street a little ways to the inn. By the time he
reached it, the Cullus shaman became nothing more than a fleeting memory.
* * *
The inn was called the Braggart’s Den, and proved every bit as flashy and as decorative as its name
suggested. A popular place, not a single chair was left unoccupied except for a few stools by the bar.
Zanis sat on one of the stools, minding his own business. Upon entering, all the laughter and raucous
noise came to an abrupt stop, with all eyes focused on him. Now, gradually, the denizens continued their
merrymaking, satisfied Zanis came here to do whatever quick business he had and then would leave
without delay.
Zanis did just that, gesturing to the innkeeper, a stout man with a greying moustache and shaved head,
to refill his waterskin. The innkeeper nodded to him, took the skin, but did not return. Instead, he left
the skin on the bar counter, dealing with his other customers first. Zanis shrugged. I could do with a
little rest, anyway, he thought. He did not blame the innkeeper for his prejudice. It was simple, really:
tribesmen belonged in their tribes, worshipping their patron god or goddess, and memorizing the Creed.
They had one purpose: to fight with rival tribes until one remained. One tribe meant one god. If only the
innkeeper knew he was an oath breaker maybe his attitude would be different. If only he knew Zanis
hated the gods.
Shaking him from his reverie, the inn fell dead silent again. With his peripheral vision, Zanis saw another
of his kind had entered the Braggart’s Den. The shaman? No, it was a man—men to be exact, seven in
total. The crowd noise rose once again as the tribesmen approached Zanis.
“We’re looking for someone,” one of them said to him, but Zanis could not see who, for his back was
turned and he faced the bar. The voice sounded rough, throaty.
Zanis ignored them.
“You’re from the Kalsaron Tribe. I recognize the mark of Silvana on your axe. An impressive weapon,”
the same voice said, pausing briefly. Zanis felt the sting of dozens of pairs of eyes burning holes in his
back. “My name is Seeg of the Cullus Tribe. A long way from home, aren’t you?”
Zanis turned his head sideways and noticed the red Cullus tattoos. The one who spoke to him, Seeg,
stood with arms folded over his chest. His long, matted black hair fell past his shoulders.
“Come, brother,” Seeg implored. “Speak to us. We are not on the tribal battlefield. Our wars do not take
place on the streets of a city. Say something.”
Zanis spun half way around on his stool and opened his mouth. The Cullus tribesmen caught their
breath, except for Seeg, at the mark of an oath breaker. Inside Zanis’s mouth were teeth, gums, and
jaw, but no tongue. Banishment from the tribe meant the taking away of a person’s ability to speak,
which impacted their ability to speak, specifically, to the gods. At this, Seeg grinned.
“An oath breaker!” he exclaimed. “No wonder you’re in these parts. Escaping those who are hunting you
down, I see.”
Zanis turned back towards the bar. The innkeeper carried out his earlier request, and Zanis hoped he
would hurry so he could be on his way.
“Please, brother, I mean no disrespect,” Seeg said. “We are not here for you, but for someone else. A
young woman.”
At this, Zanis raised an eyebrow. He recalled the shaman woman, the memory forcing itself on him
unbidden.
Noticing Zanis’s reaction, Seeg said, “So you’ve seen her?” He sat down next to him on an empty stool.
“Tell us where she is.”
Zanis shook his head. He honestly did not know, and even if he did he would not have offered any
information anyway. Glancing at Seeg, he noticed the tribesman had nearly pitch black eyes like
bottomless pits.
“Hmph,” Seeg grunted, standing up again. “Then a word of caution, oath breaker. She is a dangerous
woman. Best stay clear of her.” He leaned in, the smell of ritual incense filling Zanis’s nostrils. “She killed
ten of our best men with her shaman’s magic. Blinded them and then incinerated them into black ash.”
The innkeeper came back, passing Zanis his waterskin newly refilled. The innkeeper thrust out his hand
impatiently, urging the oath breaker to pay him. Zanis dug into the pockets of his jerkin where his purse
was and fished out five gold coins and dropped them into the innkeeper’s opened palm. The innkeeper’s
eyes glimmered. Five gold coins could buy a person a week’s lodging at an expensive inn. The innkeeper
nodded appreciatively and gave the ex-tribesman his thanks a dozen or so times. Zanis grinned, rising
to his feet. As he manoeuvred past Seeg, the Cullus captain clutched his forearm.
“She is worse than you oath breakers,” he said, his black eyes twitching left and right. “A murderous
shaman is what she is. We know she’s come to this city. You’ve seen her so why hide it? Tell us where
she is!”
Zanis jerked his arm, breaking free of Seeg’s hold. He shrugged, shaking his head. Why wouldn’t they
leave him be? He strode towards the exit.
As he left, Seeg called out to him, “Heed my warning, oath breaker! Cross paths with her and she’ll kill
you as she did our brethren! She’ll burn down this whole city with everyone in it! Mark me!”
* * *
Deshnil’s horse stables were located near the northern exit of the city, which suited Zanis’s needs
perfectly. He could buy a horse and be on his way, riding out to solitary villages, where a tribesman or ex-
tribesman was not too uncommon, looking for work and resting when needed. He wound through the
streets from the marketplace to the city gates, minding his purse from any daring pickpockets that
‘bumped’ into him by mistake. He heard merchants yell out their wares on either side of him, some even
called to him particularly. But he walked on, ignoring them.
Then he stopped abruptly. He got the sense he was being watched and couldn’t shake the feeling or
explain it. Was it Seeg and his Cullus warriors? Or the shaman? He darted his gaze all around him, but
saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he thought, better to be cautious then to get a knife in the back.
He knew either one of them was capable of starting a scene, even on a busy city street crowded with
people. They simply didn’t care.
:Zanis. A young female’s voice echoed in his mind, jolting him upright. His arms tensed. It must be the
shaman. Where was she? And how could she possibly know his name?
:Listen to me, she continued. :They have you surrounded. They intend to use you to get to me. Follow
my voice and I will lead you to safety.
Zanis was uncertain. He already told Seeg he didn’t know where the shaman was and he still didn’t. If
they had him surrounded, they hid themselves well in the crowds.
:What are you waiting for? Falter and you’ll be killed! Quick! Look behind you!
Zanis shot a glance behind him and saw a Cullus warrior approaching him, the blade of his dagger poking
out from his loose long-sleeved shirt. Zanis knew he could take him, easily, but didn’t want to risk the
lives of the surrounding citizens. His axe was just too big for the people-congested street.
He ran instead.
Using his elbows to shove people out of his way, he scurried through the crowds. He heard curses being
thrown at him, but he tried to stay focused on the shaman’s voice in his mind. She instructed him on
where to go and where the Cullus warriors hid in wait for him. How she knew, Zanis couldn’t fathom.
When she said duck, he ducked, and then heard the whistle of three knives pass overhead of him and
puncture a bag of rice a merchant was selling. Beads of white rice spilled out onto the pavement. With
that, the crowds rioted in fright, yelling and screaming that a killer was in their midst, calling for the city
guard. Zanis used the confusion to his advantage and, with the shaman’s direction, darted into a narrow
alleyway and knelt behind a stack of empty boxes. He was breathing laboriously from all the running, and
tried to calm his heart from thudding rapidly against his chest.
He waited, confident he was well hidden. A shadow passed overhead. He looked up just in time to see a
Cullus warrior leap across two buildings. These aren’t normal tribesman, he thought, hoping they hadn’t
spotted him below. A few seconds passed and they didn’t return, thankfully. He figured he was safe, at
least for the time being.
:Travel down this alleyway, the shaman’s voice came again, :until you reach an opened area of the city.
Though out of his way, Zanis decided to follow the shaman’s advice. She had been right so far, so there
was no reason to doubt her. Not yet. He made the trek down the alley, checking above and behind him
every few seconds, and reached the area she spoke of.
It was a dirt-filled and empty place behind a large, equally dirty warehouse Zanis guessed must have
been long ago abandoned. He wasn’t sure, but figured, by the look of where he was, that the shaman
had led him to the outskirts of the poor quarter of the city. The area was large enough to fit twenty with
ease, and this helped to settle Zanis’s mind. If they find me, he thought, I’ll have room to defend
myself.
In the centre, the Cullus shaman stood, waiting for him. Their eyes met, but hers were unreadable,
betraying no motive at all for why she had helped him. Then she smiled, mirthlessly, as though it were
practiced, and said, “My name is Yotsana. And I have chosen you, Zanis, to be my protector.”
How does she know my name? Zanis thought, knees bent slightly in case he had to dodge an
unexpected attack. He cared as much about magic as he did for the gods, believing, personally, that a
magic user was tantamount to an assassin.
“I am a shaman, remember?” she said, as though to explain how she knew so much about him. Then her
eyes became distant. “No, I am more than that.” Before continuing, she paused, her brow furrowed and
her eyes stared past Zanis. She signalled with a curt nod behind the ex-tribesman. “As they are more
than they seem.”
Zanis turned around, and then took a step back, eyes narrowing. They had found him. Seven Cullus
warriors flooded in from the alleyway, drawing their swords, daggers, and axes. In the middle of them,
standing in front of the gang, was Seeg, a mad smirk twisted on his face.
“Excellent, brother!” he said, arms spread out in front of him. “You’ve led her right to us as I knew you
would! You are truly an oath breaker!”
Zanis didn’t understand what he meant and chanced a glance to Yotsana, who stood firmly in place,
arms straight at her sides.
“Hand her over to us,” Seeg said, “and we will spare your life.”
With his right hand, Zanis clutched at the handle of his axe. The muscles on his right arm bulged. He
trained his eyes on Seeg, waiting for the Cullus warriors to make their move.
“You protect her? But this has nothing to do with you,” Seeg said. “Let us kill her. Let us….” He
swallowed, his neck twitching as though it had become difficult to talk. “Let us…feast…on her.”
Zanis took another step back, blood pounding in his eardrums. The Cullus warriors began to fall into
bouts of spasms. Their mouths hung open drooling saliva, while their eyes were transfixed on Yotsana,
staring hungrily.
“Zanis, shut your eyes!” Yotsana said. Zanis did so and heard a snapping sound followed by the
agonizing screams of the Cullus warriors. When he reopened his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he saw.
“You she-devil!” Seeg screamed, pointing an accusing finger at the shaman. The skin on his body, along
with the skin on the bodies of the other warriors, began to peel away. Underneath was rotting flesh,
dark in colour and emitting a putrid stench. “I’ll devour you!”
These aren’t Cullus tribesmen, Zanis said to himself, drawing his axe and holding it in front of him with
two hands, defensively. They’re demons.
“Do you see who they really are, Zanis?” Yotsana said. “Undead minions of Itturus, God of the Worms.
The question is: will you protect me as I have requested you?”
Seeg lurched towards Zanis sluggishly, scratching away at the shedding skin on his cheeks. He fell on the
blunt side of the large blade of Zanis’s axe like deadweight. Zanis tried to shove him off but found the
undead warrior stronger than he had let on.
In reply to Yotsana, knowing she could hear his thoughts, he said, looks like I don’t have much of a
choice. But if they’re from Itturus, then what does that make you?
“Give her to us, brother,” Seeg demanded, his breath reeking of a nauseating scent. “Let us have her.”
Zanis managed to shove him off using the strength of his arms and chest. Unable to keep balanced,
Seeg fell to the ground, surrounded by the other undead.
“Kill him!”
The six undead warriors advanced on Zanis. Two of them attacked simultaneously and the oath breaker
was forced to take defensive measures, using both his axe and gauntleted arm to deflect the blows. He
could not move back any farther than he had for Yotsana stood but an arm’s length away from him and
he was the only thing standing between them and her. If he retreated another step back, they could just
as easily snatch her without having to fight through him first. He knew not why he protected the shaman
woman, but knew, at the same time, that he couldn’t let her be taken by these undead monsters.
He managed to fell two of them with well-timed strikes. They melted into a pool of black gooey liquid
before disappearing into a gas and evaporating into the air with a whispered moan where they most likely
returned to the Underearth. Distracted by this, Zanis was struck in the right shoulder by a dagger, but
the cut only grazed him. He fought on twice as hard, ignoring his protesting muscles, and swung his
heavy axe barbarously, forcing the enemy back. During the process, he accidentally severed an arm that
left an undead warrior without a weapon, and then quickly took the opportunity to finish the job with a
follow up strike.
Now there were three. And unlike Zanis, they betrayed nothing of being tired.
“Get out of the way, Zanis!” Zanis somersaulted to the right. With hand stretched out in front and a
whispered word, the shaman shot a bolt of purple lightning from her palm that struck the three undead
warriors, stunning them. Yotsana fell to her knees, physically drained. Through gasps she said, “Finish
them off!”
Zanis dove into action, delivering three fatal blows to the stunned warriors. They melted away instantly,
leaving not a trace they had ever been here. Only Seeg remained.
Without a moment’s pause, Seeg leapt onto Zanis with a broadsword. Zanis managed to lift his axe in
time to block the attack. Metal clanged, and they stayed in that position, their weapons crisscrossed.
“Think you’re a match for a Captain of the Underearth Empire?” Seeg snarled. His face rotted. His ears
and nose had fallen off, as well as one eye, the other blistering red. In spite of this, Zanis was certain
Seeg was deadlier now than before. “Mark me, oath breaker, Itturus will rule the surface! And then the
stars above!”
If Zanis could talk he would have informed the undead Captain he had promised back in the inn Yotsana
would kill him and engulf the city in flames, both of which did not come true. Seeg had been wrong in
that account so…
Wouldn’t he be wrong now?
Zanis kicked Seeg’s shin with such force he shattered it. Seeg tumbled down on one knee, his arms
flailing, and a look of surprise on his decaying face. Zanis raised his axe with both hands over his head,
his large shadow swallowing Seeg whole. Without giving the undead captain a chance to escape or
counter, Zanis brought his axe down in a fatal blow.
Melting into blackness, Seeg said, “I’ll come back, oath breaker. You can’t kill me. The beauty of being
undead is to relive death over and over again.” It was not clear how Seeg could talk, as though it were
an echo from the air itself. “Look at the one you protected. And you call yourself an oath breaker…”
With that, Seeg disappeared.
Zanis turned around to face Yotsana, but what he saw was not the Cullus shaman trying to outrun the
undead, but a spirit in the form of a young girl in glowing robes, with skin as white and lovely as
porcelain and gold hair and eyes.
Zanis readied his axe. His breathing came in gasps and he was close to collapsing all together, the weight
of his humongous weapon taking its toll on him.
Yotsana raised her glowing hands in supplication. “Do not be afraid, Zanis,” she said and offered the
oath breaker an impossibly beautiful smile. “I am one of the many daughters of the Goddess. Silvana
looks down upon you with praise. An oath breaker you may be, but you alone have seen the gods more
than any other.”
Zanis lowered his axe, but only a little. His brow furrowed. You used me, he thought.
“Yes, I did,” she said, nodding apologetically. She knelt down on the ground, her head bowed and eyes
closed. “Strike me down if you so wish. Itturus’s minions searched for me and would have devoured my
spirit if not for you. I am in your debt. Do with me what you will.”
Zanis knew he should slay her, that he should take his axe and do with her as he had done to Seeg. He
didn’t believe in the gods. He had no faith in their so-called benevolence, told of in tribal Creeds that
came off as make-believe stories rather than tales of truth. The gods were all the same—all demons.
They had no benevolence and their promises were empty.
Despite this, Zanis couldn’t bring himself to lay harm on Yotsana. What demon could she be? he
thought. She had even helped him against the undead warriors, had saved his life before he had saved
hers. She was so beautiful and young, innocent and pure. And even though Zanis knew the gods could
take any shape they desired in an attempt to instil sympathy, in his heart he could not see any guilt in
her.
He replaced his axe on his back where a sturdy cord kept it in place, turned around, and walked back into
the alleyway that led out into the city marketplace. He still had a horse to buy. He looked over his
wounds from the battle, but they were superficial and would heal on their own with time. He calmed his
heavy breathing by inhaling steadily through his nostrils.
With his mind, confident Yotsana could still hear him, he said, :tell your fellow gods to leave me alone. I
want nothing to do with gods or demons. I left that life a long time ago.
A reply came back to him as a whisper in his skull.
:I can’t guarantee I can keep that promise, the whisper said. But I will try.
| Make a donation to this artist |
Yeoryios Pantazis is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers.
His work has been published by Midnight Showcase Fiction, Silver Blade, and
Newfoundspecfic.
His work has been published by Midnight Showcase Fiction, Silver Blade, and
Newfoundspecfic.