well. Your husband will cherish you, and you shall bear him many children, many boys. Daughter of Nuwa, you will never know loneliness, even unto the end of your days.”
Joyful tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Fu Xi! Thank you!”
I snatched her back down to me, my lips eagerly seeking hers. I wasn’t ready for the magic to end. The god could wait; I needed a few more moments as a man.
“Great Lord Fu Xi, are you going to roll around all morning in the hay with my cousin, or are you going to come out here and eat?” A voice called from beyond the hay.
I pushed her up. “You are Tiejiang’s cousin?”
She nodded innocently, lips pursed trying to suppress a smile. “First cousins, Lord Fu Xi.”
I sighed and sank back into the hay. All in Nushen were related in some manner, but I tried not to bed those closely related to Tiejiang or Nuwa’s current husband.
I gently slapped her on the thigh. “Get up. Get dressed. Go home.”
She cloaked herself in the cotton robe she wore to last night’s wedding and slid out of the haystack. Elated, she ran home filled with the divine blessing and glowing after a night with a god.
From beyond the haystack I detected the scent of fresh bread and rice. With a growling belly, I slipped on the ceremonial robes I wore the last night.
The rooster crowed, announcing another dawn in my endless life.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
9 . Flotilla
“Demons in the water. Demons among us. The God of the Narim gave me sight only to recognize that which slithered in the deep. My poor, beloved Atamoda could see both.” – Conversations with the Uros.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Ice enveloped Atamoda’s arm. She snapped out of her stupor and yanked her arm from the water. She shook it as if it had been bitten, wiping the moisture off on her winter tunic. Atamoda bolted upright in bleary-eyed panic, unsure how she ended up in the bottom of this boat.
It is dawn.
She quickly looked about, trying to get her bearings.
I fell asleep!
Horrible reality washed over her like the cold flood smothering the world. Atamoda’s arms sagged under the realization that she’d passed out.
How long?
She peered into the water, afraid of what she would see. Nothing stirred. She leaned over and sniffed the water, testing to see if it carried the now familiar scent that accompanied a demonic attack.
When the demons swarmed, the water released a faint, but noxious odor. Acrid and coppery, she could only describe it as a mix of blood and vomit.
The demons turn the water to venom with their very presence.
Water, her people’s nourishing life force, became their enemy.
No foul reek wafted from the flat surface this morning, but Atamoda took no comfort. The demons withdrew with the dawn, as they had on the previous mornings. She knew the danger abated only temporarily.
Atamoda squinted against the dull sunlight filtering through the overcast. The light hurt her eyes, but was welcome nevertheless. The heavenly curtain which descended in the wake of the thundering star seemed thicker this morning, robbing the dawn of color and washing the world in a lifeless gray. Atamoda felt as washed out as the sky, as cold as the sea.
She fingered her chest, searching for her missing li-gi.
Aizarg, where are you?
Far across the water only a few remaining tree tops poked above the water, the last vestiges of the marshy coast. Beyond them, the sea stretched endlessly north, occasionally dotted by floating chunks of ice. She scanned the horizon, hoping to see Aizarg, somehow, some way, sailing toward them.
A dark, little voice hissed in her mind. Where would he get a boat? She quickly pushed it aside. Doubt tried to strip away her hope, to expose her, naked and defenseless, before remorseless fate.
Setenay is with him. They are alright. She railed against the madness. She had to believe it. If she didn’t, madness as deep as the water beneath the flotilla would claim her.
Her arms burned, her
Joyful tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Fu Xi! Thank you!”
I snatched her back down to me, my lips eagerly seeking hers. I wasn’t ready for the magic to end. The god could wait; I needed a few more moments as a man.
“Great Lord Fu Xi, are you going to roll around all morning in the hay with my cousin, or are you going to come out here and eat?” A voice called from beyond the hay.
I pushed her up. “You are Tiejiang’s cousin?”
She nodded innocently, lips pursed trying to suppress a smile. “First cousins, Lord Fu Xi.”
I sighed and sank back into the hay. All in Nushen were related in some manner, but I tried not to bed those closely related to Tiejiang or Nuwa’s current husband.
I gently slapped her on the thigh. “Get up. Get dressed. Go home.”
She cloaked herself in the cotton robe she wore to last night’s wedding and slid out of the haystack. Elated, she ran home filled with the divine blessing and glowing after a night with a god.
From beyond the haystack I detected the scent of fresh bread and rice. With a growling belly, I slipped on the ceremonial robes I wore the last night.
The rooster crowed, announcing another dawn in my endless life.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
9 . Flotilla
“Demons in the water. Demons among us. The God of the Narim gave me sight only to recognize that which slithered in the deep. My poor, beloved Atamoda could see both.” – Conversations with the Uros.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Ice enveloped Atamoda’s arm. She snapped out of her stupor and yanked her arm from the water. She shook it as if it had been bitten, wiping the moisture off on her winter tunic. Atamoda bolted upright in bleary-eyed panic, unsure how she ended up in the bottom of this boat.
It is dawn.
She quickly looked about, trying to get her bearings.
I fell asleep!
Horrible reality washed over her like the cold flood smothering the world. Atamoda’s arms sagged under the realization that she’d passed out.
How long?
She peered into the water, afraid of what she would see. Nothing stirred. She leaned over and sniffed the water, testing to see if it carried the now familiar scent that accompanied a demonic attack.
When the demons swarmed, the water released a faint, but noxious odor. Acrid and coppery, she could only describe it as a mix of blood and vomit.
The demons turn the water to venom with their very presence.
Water, her people’s nourishing life force, became their enemy.
No foul reek wafted from the flat surface this morning, but Atamoda took no comfort. The demons withdrew with the dawn, as they had on the previous mornings. She knew the danger abated only temporarily.
Atamoda squinted against the dull sunlight filtering through the overcast. The light hurt her eyes, but was welcome nevertheless. The heavenly curtain which descended in the wake of the thundering star seemed thicker this morning, robbing the dawn of color and washing the world in a lifeless gray. Atamoda felt as washed out as the sky, as cold as the sea.
She fingered her chest, searching for her missing li-gi.
Aizarg, where are you?
Far across the water only a few remaining tree tops poked above the water, the last vestiges of the marshy coast. Beyond them, the sea stretched endlessly north, occasionally dotted by floating chunks of ice. She scanned the horizon, hoping to see Aizarg, somehow, some way, sailing toward them.
A dark, little voice hissed in her mind. Where would he get a boat? She quickly pushed it aside. Doubt tried to strip away her hope, to expose her, naked and defenseless, before remorseless fate.
Setenay is with him. They are alright. She railed against the madness. She had to believe it. If she didn’t, madness as deep as the water beneath the flotilla would claim her.
Her arms burned, her
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