Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian

by Elizabeth Gannon

  But this woman didn’t look like a fighter.

  She wasn’t wearing a uniform, she was wearing a colorful outfit with… embroidered amphibians on it. The little creatures bared their teeth in all directions, threatening anyone who would dare stand against their mistress.

  Perhaps… a heraldic design? Were they some kind of warrior’s emblem?

  No. No, the snarling lizards were a challenge. A warning. A way of easily telling slayers from other cultures not to trifle with her, lest they be overwhelmed by vicious toads or some other unseen horror.

  He pursed his lips in deep thought, thinking the matter over.

  Sadly, Tzadok hadn’t been born with much intelligence, especially not about matters such as these. Certainly, someone smarter than he could have easily figured out the woman’s role and purpose in the foreign army, but Tzadok remained incurably mystified.

  He made a face, cursing his own stupidity for the millionth time. His limited intelligence was the first and oldest item on his list of internal annoyances. One of the few which carried over from childhood and which he had no hope of ever remedying.

  He hated stupid people, which was a category that frequently included himself.

  Perhaps she was a witch… who had enchanted the fanged toads pictured on her robes and made them do her dark bidding?

  Tzadok shared the healthy superstition his barbarian culture had towards magic and the supernatural.

  She didn’t seem like she had any magic though. Not that Tzadok had much experience with such things, just a few random wizards he’d killed over the years, but he’d always imagined witches would be… witch-ier. Certainly not so… well… gorgeous.

  But then again, would not a woman with magical powers be beautiful? If she could do anything, wouldn’t she create an utterly pleasing and supple form for her pestilent soul to inhabit?

  He started drumming his fingers again, considering that.

  And she was green, obviously. All of her. Her skin was a bright green, like one of the emeralds his uncle had brought back from the war, while her hair was several shades darker than the deep rich grass on the Steppe.

  He’d never seen a woman like that before.

  Which meant she was something very rare. Or… something very dangerous.

  She appeared to be no real threat. She had defeated none of his warriors during the battle. In fact, she didn’t engage them at all. And she had spent the entire time since just standing there, mumbling nonsense.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of something truly insidious. He couldn’t guess what that could possibly be, but it would explain a lot about her.

  If she believed herself to be the most powerful, then she would feel no need to defend herself or show her abilities. She’d have no need to. Because she had real power and could crush anyone who stood against her.

  The strongest didn’t have to move unless challenged. It was the guiding principle of The Wasteland: the Right of the Meanest. Combat was the way they settled all disagreements, both political and personal. You fought it out and whoever won, was deemed correct. The one who was backed by Chox. And if you proved yourself the toughest person around, The Lord of Salt, everyone did what you said. You oversaw all three clans, no matter which had given you birth. You dealt with The Wasteland’s allies and made its war plans. People listened to you and depended on you. They would follow your orders, so long as you stayed the strongest. The day someone could beat you, was the day they would be Lord of Salt, and Claim everything that was yours.

  If this green woman was The Meanest of her people though, she had a peculiar way of displaying her superiority. If someone had attacked Tzadok’s men, however deficient those men obviously were, he would have annihilated the fool, even if he himself were not directly challenged.

  It was… well, it was the principle of the thing.

  The Green One didn’t do that though. Not at all.

  Which told Tzadok she wasn’t The Meanest. A conclusion helped by the fact that she was small enough that he could easily pick her up and hurl her at someone like a weapon.

  The foreign brightlighters were weak, true, but even they had to be able to overpower someone so tiny.

  And… green.

  What was up with that?

  He found himself strangely captivated. She was so… exotic. And strange. And powerful. An air of mystery and excitement seemed to surround her like a perfumed cloud. His mind began to imagine what the unseen intimate parts of her body looked like and the precise shades of green they’d be…

  “Your mother once told me that you scowled the day you were born and that the expression somehow tragically froze on your face, Nephew, never to fade. She suspected witchcraft.” His uncle observed calmly. “Personally, I think heavy thoughts tire the mind if carried too long.”

  Tzadok shifted on his feet. “There’s something about The Green One, Uncle.” He shook his head. “I can feel it. I… I know it.”

  That seemed to get his uncle’s full attention for some reason and the older man turned to face him again, his seed gathering forgotten for the moment. “Do you, Nephew?” He arched an amused eyebrow. “Tell me what it feels like to be young and to ‘know’ something when looking at a pretty girl?”

  Tzadok didn’t bother answering, still too focused on this mystery.

  The captives were starting to be sorted and distributed, each clan taking its share. The foreign prisoners were bound and lined up: male soldiers on one side and female soldiers on the other.

  As expected, the women represented in the group were few and far between. Only two stood in the street, including The Green One.

  Noxii, the Coming Death, stalked by, dragging one of the captured male soldiers behind her. The foreign man looked around the area in disbelief, apparently expecting someone to either help him or reveal this all to be some kind of elaborate joke. The man appeared on the verge of crying as his new mistress hauled him away.

  Kobb made a sad sound as he watched the warrior woman drag the captive man up the mountain. “That’s her third one this season.” He remarked conversationally, sounding disapproving. “You should really institute some kind of maximum number she can Claim. She is making a mockery of the blessed system.”

  Tzadok rolled his eyes. “As long as she’s killing the people sent against us, I don’t care what she does with the pretty ones.”

  Kobb shook his head in condemnation. “Chox does not approve of such things, Nephew.”

  Tzadok snorted. “Well, if he shows up, I’ll be sure to introduce them and he can tell her that himself. But it’ll most likely end with Noxii Claiming him as a prize too. Until then, I just want to focus on slaying all of the foreign dogs invading my lands.” His eyes narrowed at The Green One again. “Why is she here!?!” He snapped, feeling frustrated. “She doesn’t belong.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think she’s going to be ‘here’ for long.” Kobb sat down on a boulder beside him, making a relieved sound like it was good to be off his feet, despite the fact he’d only just woken up from a nap. “She’s about to ‘belong’ to Hawser, of the Coastal People.”

  The man in question was standing in front of the bound green woman, leering at her. Whatever he was saying to The Green One, she didn’t seem to like it. Which wasn’t surprising, as no one liked Hawser. The man was an idiot. His whole family was demented and his clan wasn’t much better.

  Tzadok silently wished for the woman to suddenly reveal her hidden powers. Blast the man with some kind of fiery tornado of death or cause flesh-eating frogs to erupt from his throat like a volcano of amphibian fury.

  Anything.

  But instead, the woman just stood there, looking panicked.

  Anyone who went with Hawser would…

  Well, it wouldn’t be pleasant for them. At all.

  Kobb seemed to be thinking the same thing and let out a tired sigh, as if imagining the torture which awaited the small emerald-skinned foreign woman. “Su
ch a shame. As much as I dislike the Brightlighters, I feel bad to see one of them be sentenced to that.” He looked down at the ground in sympathy and resignation. “She was a pretty one too.” He nodded to himself. “To think, someone like Hawser, would possess such a rare treasure...”

  Hawser grabbed The Green One’s face and shook it threateningly, squeezing her soft cheeks in his hand.

  The woman made a terrified sound and tried to pull away.

  Tzadok started forward.

  “I’ll come too.” Kobb chuckled. “What a gift it is to be young and to ‘know.’” His uncle remarked as he walked after him, sighing in admiration. “Certainty, like the hairline, retreats with age, I’m afraid.”

  Tzadok prowled down the trail, calling to the man in charge of the slaves. “I want that one.” He pointed at The Green One. “Claim is made.”

  “We want The Green!” Kobb agreed loudly, gesturing to her as well. “The Green!”

  “Her.” Tzadok pointed at the woman again, before he even fully arrived on the scene. “She’s mine.”

  “That one?” Volo the Entrapper gasped, sounding amazed. He looked up at Tzadok in shock. “After all these years complaining about taking women, why are you Claiming one now? And why that one? The other wench is far prettier, my friend. Perter breasts. Longer legs. Younger too.” He gestured to the taller dark-haired woman standing next to The Green One. “Look at her hips, she will bear you many sons. …And she isn’t so weird.” He turned to look at the green woman and shook his head. “But her? I’ve never seen a green one. I don’t think she’s ripe yet or something.”

  “I… like green.” Tzadok told the man truthfully, surprised to discover the fact. “None of the other foreign women I’ve ever seen have been green either. She is unique. There will be no mistaking her for anyone else’s woman. Everyone will know that she is mine just by looking at her. They will know who she belongs to and they will keep their hands off of her.” He nodded his head. “This will free up a great deal of time I would have been forced to spend slaying men who came near her.”

  The woman was also shockingly attractive and mysteriously alluring due to her hidden might, but Tzadok didn’t bother to tell the man that. Best not to loudly proclaim the woman’s superior qualities until his right to her was secured. Granted, they were all obvious but some men were stupid and blind.

  “Green is the color of ghosts and fear.” Xiphos observed as he followed them down the trail towards the prisoners. He looked at the woman with suspicion. “Betrayal, duplicity, and envy. She is probably a curse brought upon us.”

  “I don’t believe in the old myths.” Tzadok told him flatly. “I like green. I want green. I will have green.”

  “Green is the color of the trees, and the leaves, and all things alive and growing.” Kobb helpfully argued, like he was an authority on the subject. His uncle somehow always managed to sound like that though. It was a byproduct of the man’s complete confidence in himself and his god. “It is a color long since denied the Saltmen, but which Chox has now seen fit to provide us.” He smiled in relaxed contentment, his conception of the world confirmed once again. “This is an excellent sign, Nephew. Chox celebrates your victory and offers you an extraordinary reward.”

  Tzadok didn’t believe that either— except for the part about the woman being obviously extraordinary— but felt no need to argue with his uncle at the given moment.

  You didn’t deny the existence of miracles when you were trying to steal one.

  Volo squinted slightly at the girl, then turned back to Tzadok, looking scared and apologetic. “I… I think Hawser, of the Coastal People, has already Claimed that one, Lord of Salt.” He informed him regretfully, speaking slowly because he knew Tzadok wasn’t very smart and angered easily. Tzadok didn’t take offense. A lot of people talked to him the same way. It annoyed him, yes, but it was hard to say whether he’d be less annoyed if they just spoke to him in a regular tone. Honestly, it probably didn’t matter. Just their mere voices pissed him off. “I’m so sorry. But if you would like the other girl,” Volo gestured to the taller dark-haired woman again, “I can…”

  “Let me rephrase,” Tzadok stepped closer to the man in blatant intimidation, “I will have The Green One. I’m taking her.” He met the other man’s eyes threateningly. “I am not asking.”

  Tzadok might not be popular or intelligent, but he could still best anyone in The Wasteland in a fight. And everyone knew it. He’d proven it countless times in his life.

  When logic and charm failed you, you could always fall back on threats of brutal violence.

  It was how Tzadok had stayed alive all these years.

  And he was very good at them. Particularly since everyone knew that he was always willing to back up the threats with vicious action.

  Volo nodded immediately, unwilling to dispute the matter under Right of the Meanest. Such a thing was cowardice of the highest order. A true man could have only kept his honor by Challenging Tzadok right there. But Volo was afraid of death, like some weak little dog-fuck. He apparently thought that Chox had created him alone to live safe and deathless through the years, rather than die as a man in honorable combat. Personally, Tzadok would rather live one day as a man, than an eternity as a worm. “A-a-and you shall have her.” Volo quickly promised, swallowing nervously. “Now that I really think about it, Hawser didn’t technically ‘Claim’ her as much as… umm… ogle her.” He took a step away from Tzadok, trying to put greater distance between them in case Tzadok went for him. It was probably the smartest thing the man had ever done. Smart, but useless. Tzadok could have crushed his throat in seconds anyway, like rotting wood. “Completely different. No formal Claim was made, and she is thus yours. C-c-congratulations. Enjoy her.” He looked like he was about to cry or piss himself in terror. “…I hope.”

  “Good.” Tzadok nodded. “I knew I could convince you to see reason, Entrapper.”

  Kobb glanced at Tzadok questioningly out of the corner of his eye. “You sure?” He asked lowly. “This decision will be… unpopular with the clans. And I mean that in a life-alteringly bad way, Nephew. If you do this, it’s all gonna go to shit, right quick. No doubt.”

  Tzadok waved off his uncle’s concern and censure, despite the fact it was also entirely accurate. “I know what I’m doing.” He assured the man. “It will be fine.”

  In truth though… he had no idea.

  His relations with the Coastal People— Hawser’s clan— were always strained and this was not something which would improve matters. It would cause Tzadok’s tenuous and oft-lamented status as Lord of Salt to become even more endangered, and would probably lead to open revolt from the Coastal People, if not the whole of The Wasteland.

  But Tzadok didn’t care.

  In the slightest.

  He wanted The Green One.

  And The Lord of Salt took what he wanted. If he wasn’t strong enough to take it, then he wasn’t worthy of living anyway. The strong took; the weak died.

  Welcome to The Wasteland.

  “Okay.” Kobb nodded like that settled the matter forever. “Do what you have to do to get her. I’ll back you.”

  Tzadok focused on The Green One again, just enjoying the sight of her.

  “That one’s weird.” Xiphos casually observed again, joining him in looking at the woman. “How are her teeth? If they’re green too, that would just…” He made a face as he imagined the sight. “Yuck.” He gestured to the line of male prisoners. “I’d Claim one of those guys first.”

  Hawser ignored the discussion entirely, continuing to harass The Green One. As if Tzadok would ever let him have her.

  There was simply no way anyone but Tzadok was leaving this place with that woman.

  Not her own people, not the gods themselves. And especially not some son of a nameless whore, who Tzadok hated with a passion on an average day.

  Tzadok would kill him first. And he’d enjoy it.

  As if to helpfully demonstrate to Tzadok why he
needed to immediately die, Hawser lustily ran a finger down the side of the woman’s face and she tried to squirm away from him.

  Tzadok’s hand fisted at his side, his fingernails digging into his palm. His temper was about to boil over and that would be bad. Very, very bad. There were too many people here, and if they moved to stop him from killing Hawser, it could quickly turn into a bloodbath. Tzadok had nightmares about what he knew himself capable of.

  But he started forward anyway, fully intending to simply beat Hawser into the ground right where he stood. The outright gall of that man! Touching Tzadok’s prize!

  He was shaking with anger now, eager for the feel of the man’s warm blood on his hands…

  Kobb dashed in front of him, trying to prevent the imminent war with the Coastal People warriors, who were assembled around them in the clearing. “Hawser, Grandson of my Mother’s Brother, the Saltmen are honored that you would look after the property of my nephew.” Kobb kept his voice even and formal, but friendly. “But now that The Lord of Salt is here, he can take possession of his woman himself.”

  Hawser rounded on them in fury, only just now understanding the situation. “I have already Claimed this Brightlighter whore!” He protested, pointing at his own chest. “She’s mine!”

  “Are you Challenging?” Tzadok asked him coldly, genuinely hoping that the man was stupid enough to try fighting him to the death. It would make Tzadok’s day a lot more fun.

  Killing people was much easier when they weren’t running away from you. Which was perhaps the only compliment that Tzadok could give the Coastal People: they were excellent runners. Chox knew they had enough practice at it over the years. Honorless dogs.

  “Your Right of the Meanest Challenge needs to be formally declared, Hawser.” Kobb thought aloud, raising his voice so that others could hear. “Which means members of your clan need to be present and vow no retaliation over the outcome.” He turned to the other Coastal People warriors. “You heard him, brothers? This is going to be a formal Challenge, carried out honorably and under the watch of Chox. He bears witness to the Challenge and celebrates its outcome, no matter which warrior remains standing.”