Shamayim and the Little Earth

Sunlight beamed across a long, flat desert. Sand was nowhere to be found, the ground made of hard, bleach white rocks. Mountains lined the outskirts, providing the only shade from the triplet stars hanging above the hot world. In the midst of this desert was a lone silhouette. Taller than the average man by a few heads, the long limbed creature trudged under the scorching heat, its eyes fixed on the rusted carcass of a spaceship in the center of the desert. The man's feet were bound in rope sandals, keeping his black paws from touching scolding rocks beneath. Faded tan wraps covered his limbs and abdomen, a wide, conical wicker cap covering his head. The creature held something in one of his arms, a little girl. Wearing a faded and torn flower dress, she felt the blinding light on her cloth tied limbs, pulling them into the hat’s shade before she could be burned. The man grabbed one of his dussacks, a cleaver like sword, sheathed inside his rope belt, and bared his sharp teeth at the little girl. She looked at him with scared green eyes, the fur on her yellow, spotted face standing on end. The creature closed his mouth, sheathing his blade as the girl settled down. The man approached the decaying battleship. The sound of growling and whining creatures filled the air, their handlers tying up the pack beasts outside a sizable hole carved into the massive, crumbling tube that was the hulk.

The man walked into the ship, the feathered, hooved animals reeling back from his presence as he passed by. The gutted inside of the battleship was filled with the fragrant smoke of incense, trying to hide the filthy stench wafting through the air. The smell of burning beatle pipes and boiling slug flies cut through the aromatic burners, causing the little girl to gag profusely. The man walked through the bazaar, all who saw him retreating from his path. Merchants and hecklers looked the other way, sweating bullets as he came near and breathing a sigh of relief whenever he didn’t stop at their stall. He looked over the heads of customers and travelers, before spotting something in the distance. He pushed his way to the other side of the ship. Cages filled with filthy, chained men and women lined the walls. A stage made up of pieces of the dreadnought’s massive cannon shells showcased the best looking slaves, auctioned off to the highest bidders. Poles were interspersed throughout the hull of the ship, with men and women tied to them, prices painted in red on their chest. As the man carrying the little girl passed by a cage with his captive, expressions of worry, gritted teeth and pained gasps filled the slaves. The man paid them no mind, his eyes following the form of a bloated beast, draped in fine robes, wandering around the slave grounds.

The fat man was busy shouting at the slaves working outside of the cage, the poor souls sweeping, washing and cooking meals for the rest of their people. A woman dropped a plate of slop, her chained hands tangled on a loose sheet of metal. The fat man wobbled over to the woman and began beating her with a rusted metal rod.

“That costs money you pathetic wench!” The glutton shouted, the woman crying under the onslaught.

The fat monster stopped as he felt the tall man loom over his head.

“Ah, Baalchemah! What a pleasure to be graced by you on this auspicious day.” The glutton bowed to the floor, his gut holding him far off the ground.

The tall man looked at the bloated creature with disgust, letting a chuckle slide out as he saw the slave crawl away in the corner of his eye. The fat man looked back and saw the woman retreat to her cage.

“You dare escape my wrath! I’ll cut out your insides for this!” The glutton wheezed and gasped for air as he climbed to his feet.

Baalchemah held up his hand.

“Shut up already. I need to get rid of something.” Baalchemah presented the little girl, holding her out for the bloated beast.

The fat man looked at the small creature, his foul breath making the little girl gag and making her eyes water. The glutton grabbed a hold of her curly, spotted white hair, his greasy hands making the little creature’s skin crawl.

“She is a healthy piece, not like the others that come in with the raiding parties.” The bloated monster prodded the sides of the little girl.

Baalchemah bared his teeth at the glutton.

“You poke one more time and your flesh is my dinner.” The tall man licked his chops and gave the fat man a crazed look.

“M-my deepest apologies Baalchemah, b-but I don’t t-trade in youth. I-I know of someone else though.” The glutton bowed his head, quivering from head to toe.

“Where?” Baalchemah growled, licking his teeth in annoyance.

The bloated beast zig-zagged around the cages, Baalchemah following close behind. The fat man stopped in front of a pitched tent, barely big enough for the two people lounging inside. Lines of a colorful smoke filtered through the cloth entrance, making the little girl dizzy when she smelled the air.

“Excuse me my baals, but a peer asks for your guidance.” Sweat dripped from the glutton’s face.

A feminine hand covered in metallic rings parted the curtain. The long black snout of a woman, loose rings and piercings covering her face, poked out of the tent. Her bottom eyelids were covered in a green film, droplets of blue sludge dripping from the sides of her mouth. The woman scowled at the bloated beast, before spotting Baalchemah. A grin formed on her face.

“We meet at last, ‘Master of Wrath’, took you long enough.” The woman trailed off as she laid eyes on the little girl.

“Ah ha! Is that what you’ve brought for us? Some kind of apology for avoiding us for so long?!” The woman cackled, standing up to greet Baalchemah.

“Baalahyeled, mistress of children, youth, rings and sex, at your service.” The woman traced her form with her hands, Baalchemah rolling his eyes.

“Call me Shakranit, this is my brother Sathar.” The woman kicked the man inside the tent.

The glutton slinked away, praying to the names of any moleks he knew off the top of his head. The brother crawled out of the tent, his brown muzzle sniffing around for the disturbance. Sathar had blue gunk covering his face, green tears trailing down the sides of his cheeks. The man’s strange expression didn’t change even when he spotted Baalchemah. He froze at the sight of the little girl.

“You can call him Baalyidoof, master of… many, uncomfortable ways to die.” A wicked grin formed on Shakranit’s face, her brother standing up to lean on her shoulder.

Sathar stared at the little girl, the quivering creature trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.

“Are you gonna buy her?” Baalchemah tapped his foot impatiently.

“Name your price. Don’t make it too hefty, not even this desert gem is worth a fortune.” Shakranit grabbed a long, curved smoking pipe held in one of her ears, breathing slowly through the lip while a green gunk bubbled in the chamber. Baalchemah scratched his head, looking above the siblings' heads in contemplation.

“Smelling salts. I want red and yellow.” Baalchemah held out his free hand, pretending to weigh something heavy in it.

Shakranit chuckled, green slime dripping from her mouth as she rummaged through a satchel on her hip. She pulled out two small bags, covered in red and blue dust.

“You can get the yellow kind in exchange for the blue. But first, we’ll be taking the girl.” Shakranit smiled, tapping her brother’s shoulder.

Sathar reached his hand out to the girl. He began to lick his lips as his hands crept closer to her. The little girl began to breathe heavily, eyes filling with tears as she gripped Baalchemah’s red chest fur. The tall man looked at the girl’s face, anguish in her eyes churning his stomach. He felt his heart pound hard in his chest. He looked up at Sathar. Bile formed in the back of Baalchemah’s throat. The brother opened his long, bony hand to grab the girl. Baalchemah slapped the hand away. Sathar reeled back in pain, rubbing his bleeding hand. The brother looked at the tall man, baring his teeth and growling as foam filled the sides of his mouth. Sathar reached his hand down to grab his flail, spiked ball dangling on the end of the chain as his face was distorted in rage.

“No!” Shakranit forced herself between her brother and Baalchemah, the tall man grinning at the scrawny brother’s behavior.

“The deal’s off. The girl’s not for sale.” Baalchemah readjusted the girl in her arms, shielding her from the siblings' gaze.

Shakranit scowled at Baalchemah as the tall man walked away from them, ignoring the sister’s gaze boring into his back. Baalchemah walked away from the cages, a glimmer of hope on the slaves’ faces as they saw the little girl still held in his arms. The tall man walked around the bazaar, many still avoiding the intimidating creature. Smells of bubbling broth and searing bug meat snuck into the little girl’s nose, her nostrils flaring as she spotted the mouth watering food. Baalchemah heard a quiet grumbling with his long, thick ears. He looked down and saw the little girl holding her stomach. The tall man sniffed the air, turning his head to follow her eyesight. A cook had set up shop in a pitched stall, a large grill placed between him and his famished diners. Baalchemah sat down in front of the chef. The customers were sitting on old rugs and pillows, chowing down on skewered locusts and cracking open land lobsters. Some shifted away from the tall man while the rest left the stall altogether. The cook looked up to see the commotion. He was petrified at the sight of the menacing Baalchemah.

“My great baal, w-what grace you’ve b-bestowed-” The tall man held up his hand.

“Shut up and tell me what you have.” Baalchemah scowled at the man, the tall man pinching the bridge of his snoot.

“W-well I have some succulent Daqwatx on these s-sticks, flaked Alicatus in bowls and locally s-sourced Dempses, seared to perfection.” The cook was shaking as he presented the food.

Baalchemah looked at the little girl with curiosity. She was looking at the cooked insects, her attention grabbed by the land lobster.

“One Dempses and a bowl full of Alicatus.” Baalchemah slipped his hand into a large metal container strapped to his hip.

“It’s free my baal, though it would be m-most h-humbling if you blessed my shop.” The cook bowed his head down, jumping back before he burned his face on the coal fired grill.

“Ugh… fine.” Baalchemah grabbed one of the dussacks out of his belt.

The tall man notched a symbol into one of the posts holding the tent up.

“There, that should scare off any would be burglars.” The tall man sheathed his sword.

“Now feed me.” He held out his hand, ignoring the searing heat billowing from the grill.

The chef picked up a land lobster and a bowl full of ant flakes and handed it to Baalchemah. The tall man placed his bowl down and handed the Dempses to the little girl. The tiny creature tried to grab the insect, but her tied hands made it too big for her grasp. Baalchemah sighed at the poor sight. He pulled out his dussack. The tall man held the blade close to the little girl’s cheek, letting his fangs poke out of the sides of his mouth. Baalchemah cut the wraps holding her limbs together, releasing the child. He let the little girl gently down on his lap. She smiled at the tall man, before grabbing her hot meal. She began biting at the Dempses with such feral ferocity, tearing apart the shelled creature. Baalchemah chuckled at the sight, chomping on little handfuls of Alicatus as he watched the little girl in his lap. In the blink of an eye, she cracked the shell of one of the meaty claws of the land lobster, a chunk of the pincher flying off. The pincer jabbed into Baalchemah’s chest. The little girl gasped, covering her mouth as the chef and remaining customers ran out of the tent in panic.

Baalchemah’s face was expressionless. He looked at the pincer, blood slowly dripping from the wound. He looked down at the little girl, the small creature breathing heavily and eyes wide open in shock. A smile cracked on the tall man’s face. Baalchemah began laughing hysterically, pulling the pincer out like it was nothing. He fell on his back, bowling the little girl onto the floor. The tiny creature shook her head, confusion gripping her face as she watched Baalchemah roll on the floor in bliss. The tall man’s laughter died away, chest heaving and face sweating. The little girl crawled over to him, licking his wound as he rested. Baalchemah looked down at the little creature, raising an eyebrow at the tiny nurse. The tall man picked her up, wiping her face of his blood as he sat up. Baalchemah unraveled a part of the wraps covering his arms, revealing flesh scarred by years of cuts, bites and slashes. He tore off a piece of cloth and wrapped it around his chest, covering the wound.

“What’s your name? One who stabbed a god?” Baalchemah smiled at the girl, raising an eyebrow at the angry look on the tiny creature’s face.

“You’re no god, there’s only one and he’s more powerful than you.” The girl scowled at the tall man, crossing her arms.

“That may be so. The tales say that gods bleed golden ichor or they deflate like gas bags.” Baalchemah poked at his wound, the blood drying quickly.

“I ask again, who is the heroine who stabbed me, a not god?” The tall man came face to face with the little girl, squinting and making the little creature shake.

“E-Eretz. After my grandmother.” The little girl said, trying to keep herself from shaking.

“Eretz… like the Earth? I heard it’s a fairy tale.” Baalchemah sifted his fingers through the little girl’s hair.

“Nuh uh, it’s real, just somewhere hidden in heaven.” Eretz pouted at Baalchemah.

“What’s your real name? My mama said the baals have two names, the title a-and the real one.” The little girl twiddled her thumbs, looking shyly away from the man.

“Shamayim. The Sky. Only those close to me know it.” Baalchemah reclined back on his arms.

The little girl bit her lip, her face revealing that she was thinking of something. Her eyes lit up as an idea popped to mind.

“Earth, air… are you married to water?” The little girl stood up, giving the baal a gleeful look.

Shamayim shook his head, finishing the last bite of his Alicatus.

“Finish your Dempses. I hate the smell of this place.” Shamayim poked the shell of the spicy land lobster.

Ertetz pulled the last of the meat out with her fingers, leaving the empty shells on the rusted bolt covered floor. Shamayim picked up the crumpled remains of the land lobster and tossed it into the grill, disintegrating in the intense heat. He left his bowl on the ground as he picked up Eretz.

“Do you mind if I walk?” The little girl asked, sheepishly looking at the ground.

“Not in here. Don’t want vermin to carry you away.” Shamayim snarled at two cloaked figures watching them, their thin tails tucked beneath the covers as they disappeared into the bazaar goers.

Shamayim held Eretz close to his chest, using his arm to give the little girl a seat as he walked out of the bazaar. The drivers had moved their animals away from the entrance and under a tent laid over one of the bent cannons of the derelict ship. The suns were setting, turning the bleach desert into a blob of purple. The mountains off in the distance were pure red, the peaks shining in the dying light. The landscape was peaceful. Quiet save for the occasional bone chilling gust of wind. Shamayim stopped outside the metal hulk.

“Shamayim, what’s wrong?” Eretz looked at the tall man’s face.

The little girl looked around. She looked over Shamayim’s shoulder. Eretz let out a frightened gasp as she saw the two cloaked figures behind them, standing in the scarred entrance of the ship.

“Do. Not. Move.” Shamayim dropped Eretz to the ground.

He turned to face the cloaked figures. The two revealed themselves.

“About that deal, Baalchemah.” Shakranit’s muzzle poked out of the cloak.

A wicked grin was on her face.

“Give us the girl, for your life.” Shakranit pulled her robe off.

She pulled a long, curved two-handed shotel from her belt, the long crescent blade glinting in the sunsets. Her brother did the same, pulling out his flail and a wire net. Shamyim pulled off an eye-shaped cowhide shield from his back, a spear head attached to the bottom of the shield. He grabbed a lance from a hook inside the shield, the thin blade longer than three man hands and the pole as big as Shamayim. The three baals didn’t move, the only sounds coming from the pack animals and Eretz’s tense breaths of air. In the blink of an eye Shakranit launched into the air, screaming as she spun head over heels. Her brother raced forward, holding the flail far to the side as he threw the net at Shamayim. The red warrior took his shield and stabbed it towards the net, poking the spear head through one of the tiny holes. He stabbed his lance above his head, Shakranit barely blocking the stab as the blade slashed across her legs. Shamayim watched as the Baalah soared over his head and landed next to Eretz. Sathar slammed the flail’s pole into Shamayim’s shield, the metal head smacking into the red warrior’s abdomen. Shamayim felt a rib crack. Sathar was swinging the flail over his head in the rebound, ready to crack Shamayim’s skull.

The red warrior swiped the pole of his lance at the brother’s leg, knocking the sibling to the ground. Shamayim swiped the blade of the lance down, slicing through Sathar’s eyes. The brother shrieked in pain, striking out aimlessly with his flail. Shamayim turned his stance to look behind him. Shakranit was gripping Eretz’s neck with one hand, while the sister tied the little girl’s hands and feet to her belt. The red warrior stabbed his lance towards Shakranit’s back. The sister released Eretz 's neck, the little girl swinging from the siblings belt as the sister swung her sword around. The blades met, the lance being knocked off course. Shamayim drove his shield into the shotel, aiming the spear head towards Sathar’s stomach. Eretz’s body was blocking the path, her terror stricken eyes sending chills down Shamayim’s spine. The red warrior dropped his lance and grabbed the shield with both hands. He stabbed the spear head into Sathar’s right arm, the sister slicing through the skin of his stomach in turn. The sibling staggered, blood coating her arm and making the shotel’s handle slippery. Shamayim scooped up the lance and held it over his head, ready to strike at the faintest slip the sister made.

“I don’t need eyes to see you!!!” Shakranit gave an exhausted smile as her brother came running towards the red warrior.

Fire filled his eye sockets, black smoke billowing out as the brother swung his flail towards Shamayim. The red warrior blocked the blow with his shield, barely stooping the brother from slamming the full weight of his body against him. Shakranit grunted as she sliced her sword towards Shamayim’s stomach. The red warrior swung the lance around, the sister's blade sinking into the wooden handle. Shamayim pulled his shield upward, the spear head slicing through Sathar. The brother staggered back. He let out a guttural howl as he jumped towards the red warrior, sparks flying out of his mouth. Shamayim flipped his shield, spear head pointed towards the crazed sibling and planted the shield in the ground. Sathar fell on the spear, the blade piercing through his stomach and breaking through his spine. The brother let a painful gasp before going limp.

“No!!!” Shakranit’s screech pierced through the air, Eretz crying out in pain and Shamayim wincing as blood dripped from his ears.

The sister tried to pull her blade from the red warrior’s lance, the blade bending and chipping in her futile efforts. She jumped away as Shamayim pulled his dussack out, slashing out towards the sister. Shakranit looked at her brother impaled on the shield, tears welling in her eyes. She looked at the red warrior, silhouetted in the setting suns. She let out a blood chilling scream. She dug her nails into her abdomen, raking her long claws through her stomach. A nauseous green smoke plumed from her mouth. Liquid dripped from her gaping maw and open wounds. Each drop against the ground hissed, melting the bleached rocks covering the surface. She went on all fours, barking and growling at Shamayim as the veins in her eyes pulsated. The red warrior didn’t move, holding the dussack out towards the crazed sister. Shakranit charged towards Shamayim, acid spilling from the sides of her mouth. The red warrior grabbed Sathar and the shield, holding both towards the attack. The sister reeled upwards before slamming into Shamayim, spitting at the red warrior. Shamyim pulled Sathar’s body down, the acid splattering against the brother’s shredded back. Shakranit swiped her claws at Shamayim’s legs, a single claw slicing through one of Sathar’s leg and causing the wound to bubble and hiss.

Shamayim slashed his dussack down on Shakranit’s back. The sister jumped away, smiling as she heard the blade clink against the ground. She turned to look at Shamayim, tensing her muscles for another attack. Her face froze in horror as she saw the tied Eretz in Shamayim’s hands, the little girl blowing raspberries at the enraged sister. Shakranit scraped her claws against the desert rocks, crying out in fury. The sisters skin was bubbling, fur disintegrating and leaving patches of gray skin beneath. The red warrior broke Eretz’s ties just as Shakranit leapt into the air, fangs gleaming in the fading sunbursts. The red warrior thrust Sathar’s body towards his sister. The siblings slammed together, the spearhead punching into Shakranit’s stomach. The sister flailed her arms down towards Shamayim, the red warrior keeping her high above his head. Shakranit’s cries and howls faded. Her body went limp. Shamayim dropped the siblings to the ground, pulling the spearhead out of their bodies. The red warrior sat on the ground next to the corpses. The red warrior looked at Sathar’s chest. Shamayim’s eyes were reflected in his dussack, held above the brother’s heart. “Wh-what are you doing?” Shamayim was shocked by Eretz’s touch.

The little girl was looking at Shamayim with worried, exhausted eyes. The red warrior looked at the blade. He sheathed it in his belt, letting out a sigh.

“Nothing. Come on, let’s leave this place.” Shamayim picked up Eretz.

The little girl closed her eyes as the red warrior pulled Shakranit’s shotel out of his lance. A crowd of shocked, gasping onlookers began filtering out of the ruined ship as Shamyim slid his lance in his shield. The crowd converged around the dead baals as he slid the shield over his back. The crowd glanced fearfully at the red warrior as he wandered back into the desert, off into the mountains with a tired little girl in his arms.