The Tower A Novel (Sanctus)

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Liv felt the ground tremble as the riders poured through the open gates and quickly surrounded them on all sides. She kept her

eyes fixed on the lead horseman who halted the line with his upheld hand and trotted on alone on his pale horse. He removed his

keffiyeh as he approached, revealing a dust-rimed face burnt almost black around the eyes by years in the fierce desert sun.

‘See who is with them,’ Tariq whispered.

Liv scanned the line of riders and saw Malik smiling back at her. It was he who probably brought them here, though for what reason

she could only guess at. She stepped forward, opened her arms and smiled. ‘Welcome,’ she said in fluent Arabic that surprised

the rider. ‘You must be thirsty after your long ride, your horses too.’

The rider looked down from his lofty position and circled her slowly, scrutinizing her down the curve of his long nose. She could

smell the dust and dung of his panting horse, feel the heat radiating from its damp flanks as it was brought to a halt in front of

her. The rider turned to his men. ‘I was hoping Ishtar would have more meat on her,’ he said loudly.

The riders erupted in laughter, Malik included.

He turned back, his lined face now split in a smile of his own to reveal an incomplete set of long, broken teeth. ‘You don’t

look much like a goddess to me.’

Liv smiled, her eyes flicking to Malik then back to the rider. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything people tell you.’

‘Are you calling me a fool?’

‘No. Why don’t you tell me your name, then I can call you that.’

He leaned forward, his worn saddle creaking beneath his shifting weight. ‘They call me Azra’iel. You know what that means?’

It was an odd quality of her new fluency with language that she often saw images rather than meanings, and felt the words rather

than interpreted them. Azra’iel. A picture formed in Liv’s head of huge black wings and she felt fear. ‘It means “Angel of

Death”.’

The broken smile returned. ‘Maybe you are a goddess after all.’ His hand passed across strips of bright ribbons on his chest and

in a movement too fast to register Liv found herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. ‘Maybe I put a bullet in your brain to

find out.’

Before Liv could react Tariq stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his. ‘Take it,’ he said. ‘It’s the water you

want, you do not have to kill to get it.’

‘Do not tell me what I want. No one tells Azra’iel what he wants.’

‘It’s OK,’ Liv said in English, moving from behind him, doing her best to ignore the gun as it swung back to point at her.

‘What are you – American? English?’ The rider said, picking up on the switch in language.

‘American. I’m from New Jersey.’

Azra’iel sat high in his saddle and swept his arm across the desert landscape. ‘This is where I am from. My family has lived on

this land for two thousand years. We have seen the great Caliphs come and go, then the Mongols, and then the Turks.’ He jabbed

the barrel of his gun at the ribbons on his chest. ‘Saddam Hussein gave me these himself for defending his Republic against the

American invaders, but he was an idiot and now he is dead. I was not fighting for him, I was fighting for the land. And now the

land belongs to me.’

Liv held his gaze and slowly shook her head. ‘The land does not belong to any man,’ she said. ‘It is we who belong to the land.

’

‘You are wrong, goddess. It belongs to any man who will fight for it – this is what my people have learned – and you did not

fight.’

‘No. We welcomed you. We invited you to share it, in peace. Isn’t that a better way?’

The jagged smile returned. ‘Better for me.’ He turned away and raised his voice so all could hear. ‘This oasis is ours now. I

give you a choice. You can leave or you can die. You have two minutes to fill your canteens. I advise you to take as much as you

can. The desert is not as friendly or as welcoming as your goddess.’ He turned his horse and started walking away.

‘We could fall back to the transport shed,’ Tariq whispered. ‘There are guns there. We could make a stand. Or if we make a

diversion when we head through the gates I think I might be able to make it to the top of one of the towers and turn the big guns

on them.’

‘Then what? Bury the bodies, wait for the next lot of people to show up and kill them too?’

‘What else can we do? We won’t last two days out in the desert without water. Better to fight and maybe die here quickly than

slowly out there in the furnace.’

‘Better not to die at all,’ she said.

‘You have something else in mind?’

She swept her hand through the water, her fingers dragging through the cool, wet earth at the bottom, remembering the symbols on

the Starmap. ‘No,’ she said, watching the swirls of earth eddying in the clear water, turning it a dusty red. There was

something familiar about all this, she had seen something like it in the stone. She tried to concentrate on it and bring it to the

front of her mind but it continued to elude her, like something glimpsed at the edge of her vision. ‘If you want to go, then go,

’ she said, turning to Tariq. ‘I’m sure you could make it to Al-Hillah on foot before the thirst takes hold.’

‘What about you?’

She glanced up at the gravesite, visible through the line of riders and the chain-link fence. ‘I’m staying here,’ she said,

‘or as close as I can manage without getting shot.’

Her hand passed through the water again, sending larger clouds of red mud spreading in the water as she stood and walked towards

the riders.

‘Goodbye, Malik,’ she said, as she passed through the line.

His smile faltered and he made as if to reply but she was already gone, striding towards the open gate and out into the desert

without once looking back to see if anyone was following her.