Of Blood and Steel

by Seymour Zeynalli

  Arda’s hands and feet were bound together, and she was surrounded by both young and old men. A slender man tended the fire. His hair was very thin and scooped over to one side. When he noticed her looking in his direction, he paused and smiled at her in a leering way. He was dressed in rags that exposed his chest. As he raised his axe, she noticed his ribs popping out through his paper-thin skin. He looked gaunt. Arda looked away at the three sleeping dogs in the far corner and shuddered. She did not dare raise her eyes in his direction for several minutes.

  “Get back to work with that fire, and stop staring at the girl. You’re making her uncomfortable,” a deep voice croaked at him.

  Arda looked in the direction of the voice, and a tall, stocky man stood. He was dressed in costly but worn-down armour and had his long dark hair slicked back. He was cleaner and tidier than the other men, with a smooth, well-maintained moustache. A longsword hung from a thick leather belt, along with other weaponry, including a whip. He wore a full-length, fur cloak over his shoulders and sturdy boots that were a little worn.

  A younger man stood next to him. He was shorter, not as brawny, and much older than she was. He was also well kept and wore expensive armour. He peered from around the larger man and smirked.

  “Aren’t you too old for her anyway,” He directed at the man tending the fire.

  The man tending the fire screwed up his face.

  “Watch your tongue while it’s still attached to you, Marwin,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Enough! You are scaring our guest,” the brawny soldier yelled. Both men stopped and looked over at him. “We’re on the same side here, brother.”

  The older man turned around and began chopping more wood for the fire.

  “You don’t always have to fight my battles,” Marwin told him. But the man’s attentions were drawn towards Arda.

  “This wasn’t a battle,” the man clarified.

  “You know what I mean. I could have handled it myself. I am not afraid of him.”

  “Did I say anything of that sort?”

  “No, but your actions did.”

  “Listen, we are all here for the same reasons. Our fight isn’t with each other.”

  “You should be telling him that.”

  A loud clear whistle echoed, interrupting their conversation before the man continued.

  “We can talk about this later. Go and see what the hunters have for us.”

  The young man nodded and headed off as he had been ordered. The older man walked towards Arda and sat by her.

  “So then, what are we going to do with a pretty young lady, such as yourself?”

  “Maybe you could let me be on my way, with my friends,” Arda replied.

  He looked down at the child and then his eyes rose again to meet Arda; he raised his eyebrows.

  “And my daughter. I just want to keep her safe.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. In case you haven’t noticed there are wars going on. It would put both you and the child at risk. I can’t let that happen.”

  Arda looked closer at the man. “I recognize that armour; it belonged to a high-ranking Parthian soldier. Did you kill to get it? Using it as your trophy?”

  He sat quietly opposite Arda.

  “You are very observant. I like that about you. But you are wrong about one thing. I did kill for that armour, but I didn’t steal it. I have spilled blood time after time to earn the right to wear it. That was my dream ever since I was a little kid. That armour is mine . . .”

  “You are a former soldier? All of you are. I’ve heard about you. The fleeing men; men who ran away from the battles. Men without honour.”

  “Believe what you wish to believe. But know this; it takes more than strength and honour to stop serving and killing. The things I did as a Parthian soldier would make you weep, and I walked away to this. To starve and hide, because I didn’t want to kill. It changes a man. The safest thing for you and the child is to stay here with us, at least for now.”

  “You and I both know that is not true.”

  “As long as you are under my protection, you are safe here. I give you my word.”

  “Being tied up to a pole doesn’t strike me as safe.”

  He pulled out his dagger and stepped towards her. Arda flinched. His face was in hers. He cuts the bonds from her wrists and ankles.

  “Don’t confuse my manners for weakness,” he warned her before leaving.

  Arda sighed and stretched out her legs. The mud below her feet was soft and when she placed down her dainty feet, she could feel her shoes sinking, as the mud tried to swallow her feet. The child started to move around.

  He played with his dagger, spinning it around his fingers.

  “I am anticipating your friends will come for you. I know I would for any of my men. They are like brothers to me. We fled because we refused to follow orders. We are all men stripped of our honour, but it doesn’t mean we lack compassion.”

  “So, this is what you reduced yourself to? Lurking in the shadows and ambushing innocent people?” Arda snapped.

  “We aren’t murderers. If we were you wouldn’t be here right now. No women. No children. But I also have more than two dozen starving, tired men to keep in line.” he stood up. “We stay here and take what we can from the forest, but sometimes that’s not enough.”

  The child started to move around more and began to cry. Arda took her from her basket and began to soothe her.

  “She’s hungry,” Arda said. “She needs milk. There was a bottle in my satchel, but my satchel has been taken.”

  “I’ll get it,” he said.

  He makes his way to Arda’s satchel. A few men near the tent shouted about the screaming of the child.

  He grabbed the container full of milk and headed back to Arda before being stopped by one of his men.

  “Hey, I was going to drink that.”

  “Are you a child?”

  He returned with her satchel. Arda searched through the bag. Her supplies were still there, but only half of the milk.

  “You will have to do the best you can with what you have.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  His head followed Arda. He came close to the baby, looking at her tiny palm and hands as he let out a smirk.

  “May I?”

  He gently and slowly extended his hands towards Arda, gesturing her to pass him the baby. She nodded in approval. He put his dagger on the table and gently picked up the child. Arda watched him feed the baby, grinning.

  “I am Arda. What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Tarlan, Tarlan!” Marwin shouted, returning from his duties.

  “I am needed elsewhere,” Tarlan said as he handed the child back to Arda.

  Tarlan hurried off in the distance while Arda sneakily grabbed the dagger. She watched as Tarlan approached a small group of men around a fire. A man walked forward and showed Tarlan the opening to his bag.

  “Any luck?” Tarlan asked.

  “No meat today,” one of the men said, handing over the bag to Tarlan.

  Tarlan shook the bag upside down. Berries and mushrooms spilled out and rolled. Arda looked at the mushrooms. They were the mushrooms that Balak warned her about.

  “That’s it?”

  “This is all we have.”

  Tarlan sighed. “This won’t be enough till morning.”

  Arda watched as one man picked up one of the mushrooms and said, “These would go well with the leftover nuts,” as he started to reach for a bite. Tarlan grabbed his hand.

  “Careful, you don’t know if they are edible. You wouldn’t want to get poisoned, would you?” Tarlan said to the man.

  “So, give it to the dogs?” asked the man.

  “I have a better idea,” replied Tarlan.

  Tarlan grabbed one of the mushrooms and walked towards Arda and began talking.

  “Arda, do you know if those are poisonous?” he asked her.

  “They look like any other mushrooms. No reason to
think otherwise,” Arda said.

  “Then you wouldn’t mind eating one for me?” He offered her a mushroom.

  Arda accepted. She didn’t want to raise the alarm. She carefully took a bite from the bottom and began to chew.

  “Good,” Tarlan said.

  He signalled to one of the other men. “Put her in the tent. Keep an eye on her,” he instructed. “If she doesn’t get sick in a couple of hours, we might have something to eat tonight,” he continued.

  “What about the child?” Arda called to Tarlan.

  “I’ll keep her safe,” he answered. He moved in closer. “As long as you behave.” He was close enough to whisper in her ear. She could smell the fumes from his hot breath.

  A man walked over and without saying a word, he threw Arda over his shoulder and dropped her in the tent. Tarlan disappeared with the child.

  Arda sat quietly in the tent. She looked around but with her feet and hands bound, she was going nowhere. The man was distracted with what was going on by the fire, so Arda lowered her wrists and started to rub the binding against the dagger she’d hidden under her belt.

  “The mushrooms and berries aren’t enough. Some of us haven’t eaten in a week,” one of the men protested.

  “What about that funny-looking horse?” a man behind him asked.

  “We have never seen anything like it. It must have come from the Mystic Forest. Those weird looking things always come from there. We might have better luck selling it. If we eat it, it will keep us alive for a day. But sell it and we can be fed for a whole week.”

  The crowd got quiet before the sound of barking echoed in the cave.

  “What about the dogs?” the youngest of them said.

  The two grown men with dogs stood with their heads down. The fire was roaring and flickering yellows, oranges, and reds. A quick severing motion and two hairy canine heads rolled forward, As their bodies collapsed to the floor, blood seeped out and pooled on the ground. The youngest man was ready to cut the last dog when Tarlan intervened.

  “Not him,” he protested. “It’s my dog. If anyone’s gonna be doing it, it’s going to be me.”

  * * *

  Tarlan headed out of the cave behind the waterfall and wandered through the trees with his dog, away from the company. He threw a stick.

  “Get it, Rushan,” he said.

  The dog ran to fetch the stick and dropped it at Tarlan’s foot, wagging his tail.

  “Good boy,” Tarlan told him, and he crouched down, stroking the dog’s head. Rushan jumped and laid his front paws on Tarlan. He leaned in and licked his owner’s face, almost knocking Tarlan to the ground. He leaped again and knocked him over, and the dog licked his face again before sitting, waiting for the stick to be thrown again.

  Tarlan punched the leafy ground.

  “I am sorry, boy,” he whispered. A single tear rolled down Tarlan’s face, and as he wiped it away, a thin line of mud streaked his face. Tarlan grabbed a dagger from his belt.

  * * *

  Arda had been working on her binds for some time now and she was down to the last one when Tarlan returned to camp, with a dead, skinned animal.

  The men sat around the fire and waited for the meat to cook. A bitter smell filled the air and the mood was solemn.

  When the food was ready, the men walked slowly and silently to get their food. For some, it became too much and they had to retreat.

  Arda sat in the tent as the men feasted. Only Tarlan refused to eat the meat. He sat in between the tent and the fire, alone, staring at the ground beneath him. He saw a foot and looked up to see Marwin looking down on him. Marwin sat next to him and whispered, “You should eat something.”

  “I lost my appetite.”

  “Guys told me you were looking for me earlier?”

  “I was.”

  “Is it about what happened between Yashar and me?”

  “No, forget that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Tarlan didn’t reply.

  “Are you gonna keep me guessing?”

  “Remember the girl we brought? She has a child.”

  “A child? What do you plan to do with the child?” Marwin questioned Tarlan.

  “Not me . . . us. We can raise her.”

  “In here? You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not. Just think about it. Isn’t this what we always wanted, to be a real . . .” Tarlan stopped talking for a moment while one of his men passed by. “We can be a real family.”

  “We already are a real family.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

  “Where is the child now?”

  “She is in my tent. Do me a favour and come by later. Hold her . . . just hold her and maybe you will change your mind.”

  Marwin tried to hold back a chuckle.

  “Shhhhh! What? What’s so funny.” Tarlan asked with a smile on his face as well.

  “I am happy to see you so excited. It’s been awhile.”

  It got quiet and Marwin looked into Tarlan’s eyes. Their moment of happiness was interrupted by a few men arguing over a piece of meat.

  “I am sorry about Rushan. I know how much he meant to you,” Marwin said as he put an arm on Tarlan’s back, trying to comfort him.

  “Not here. Too many onlookers,” Tarlan whispered.

  * * *

  Balak and Ziya made their way through the forest. They followed the path, weaving around trees.

  “I can’t believe you never wore a helmet,” Ziya said.

  “They obscure my vision.”

  “I get that but it is small price to pay to keep a head on your shoulders. And don’t take it personally, but you got a big head.”

  “Why do you think I carry an axe?”

  “That is precisely the problem, your axe is huge. I don’t know how you carry such a heavy thing around. It must be bad for your back.”

  “It’s lighter than it looks.”

  Balak crouched, touched the dog’s shit and said, “Still warm, they must be close.”

  The two men carried on, cautiously.

  “What if someone got close to you? How would you defend yourself?”

  “I’d use my head,” Balak scoffed. He continued along the trail.

  “Shouldn’t we be able to see them by now?” Ziya objected.

  “These guys are too smart to be camping in the middle of the forest. Look over there.” Balak pointed in the direction of a waterfall.

  “It’s a waterfall.”

  “They must be hiding under it,” Balak stated.

  “Interesting.”

  “Be quiet,” he warned Ziya.

  They followed the tracks until they could see a small, flickering flame in the distance through the gap at the side of the waterfall. They could hear the bickering of many men, enjoying themselves.

  “Where would they keep her?” Ziya asked.

  “Assuming she is still alive, she could be in any of those tents around the fire.”

  They hid in the bushes and waited for around an hour until it was pitch black. They slipped inside the waterfall, hearing nothing but the sound of the cascading water behind them. Balak headed closer to the camp and waved Ziya on. Suddenly he held his arm up, signalling a stop.

  “What is it?” Ziya asked.

  “We’re not alone,” Balak told him. “We’re surrounded.”

  Balak felt for his double-headed axe and charged closer to the camp. Arrows were fired at his feet, and men appeared from behind trees and bushes.

  Balak and Ziya formed up, back to back, as the angry bandits circled them. Balak raised his axe, ready for battle.

  “Any bright ideas?” Balak growled to Ziya.

  “A few,” Ziya said to Balak before addressing the whole crowd.

  “Listen to me! Give us back what you have taken from us and I promise none of you will get hurt.”

  The men looked at Ziya and then to Tarlan. Tarlan lowered his weapon and started laughing. The rest joined him.

  Ba
lak gave Ziya a stern look.

  “I thought that would work.”

  Tarlan teared up from laughing and after he was done, he ordered his men to attack. The men slowly began approaching the duo.

  “So, what’s the plan? You take the half on your right and I take the half on your left?

  “You don’t even have a sword,” Balak groaned.

  Suddenly, the men held onto their stomachs and started to drop their weapons and fall to the ground. Balak gave Ziya a look and Ziya shrugged. One of the men shook violently. Then the other, and another. They continued to moan and double over on the floor in pain. Balak swung his axe at a stumbling man. His head dropped from his shoulders and rolled over the ground.

  Tarlan looked on as his men grabbed at their stomachs and began dropping to the floor and vomiting and shitting themselves. His eyes widened.

  Balak and Ziya took this opportunity to attack those who didn’t show signs of slowing down. Some men were still ready to spill blood.

  Tarlan saw Marwin, rolling in pain. He rushed to his aid.

  “Marwin! No, no, no! Look at me. You will be fine.”

  “Tarlan, it’s getting harder to breathe.”

  “Don’t say that! This is just temporary. Let me see if someone can help you.”

  Tarlan looked around his dead men, feeling increasingly worried and lost, when he heard Marwin began to gasp for air.

  “Fuck. Not now, not now, Marwin. Please, Marwin. Don’t let it be you!”

  Marwin gave Tarlan one last smile before his breathing stopped altogether. The campfires dimmed with his final breath.

  “Come, meet your eternal rest,” Tarlan whispered before closing Marwin’s eyes. Tarlan then kissed him gently on his forehead before breaking into tears. He looked on the ground and noticed half eaten mushrooms. Tarlan slowly rose up and drew his weapon.

  “The girl,” he muttered. Anger flashed across his face.

  Balak and Ziya pushed through the bandits, pushing deeper into the cave. Balak struck down those that were still standing by landing fatal blows with his double-headed axe. He was faultless as he swung it from left to right, then from right to left as he ran through several men at once.

  Balak and Ziya strutted into the camp. Ten men raised their swords and charged towards them.