It let out another shriek of rage, thrashing about for a moment until it righted itself. By that time though, Tzadok was already back on his feet and racing up the half-collapsed stone stairs behind him.
Wastelanders did not believe in running away from a fight. But they also didn’t believe in fighting on ground of the enemy’s choosing. Letting your opponent set the course of the battle was weakness. A Wasteland warrior was always the one to decide where their adversary would die.
The Wogosh had had the advantage of surprise and loose salt. But Tzadok aimed to even the odds.
Behind him, the creature stopped, as if listening to orders from some unseen power, then dove back beneath the salt, like a fish into water.
Tzadok turned to follow its trajectory, then swore. The huge scorpion-beast was heading right towards Tandrea!
Several hundred yards away, his uncle and his prize were still trying to corral the horses and keep them from bolting into the barren desert with all of their supplies.
Tzadok leapt from the second floor of the collapsed building, landing on top of a high wall. He dashed down the narrow stonework, ten feet up, his legs making short work of the distance. He reached the end of the wall, jumping off of it and raising his hammer, swinging it downward on the spot his instincts told him would soon contain the Wogosh.
Tzadok and the monster were both slayers. And that’s where Tzadok would have attacked from, had he been the hungry beast.
Sure enough, the monster erupted from the salt and Tandrea let out another cry of terror as the fiend towered over her, ready to strike.
Tzadok’s hammer battered it from above as soon as it appeared, smashing one of its eyes into a spray of mushy ooze.
The monster staggered backwards on all of its thin legs, startled to be ambushed from the sky. Tzadok pressed forward, hammering at its legs as they moved, breaking two of them and sending the severed appendages flying. They hit a nearby column so forcefully that the limbs stuck in the stone, like daggers tossed into soft wood.
The Wogosh skittered back quickly, moving away from Tzadok for a few hundred yards. It rounded on him a moment later, unwilling to give up the attack. It let out another cry of pure unearthly fury.
Tzadok stood in front of the creature, motionless as a painting, hammer in hand. “I am The Lord of Salt, beast.” He growled out, his voice low and dangerous. “I am Chox’s vessel of wrath, to be emptied on foolish dogs who Challenge me or attempt to harm my Heart.”
The Wogosh recovered from its wounds, reeling back and charging towards him as fast as its remaining foul limbs could carry it.
Tzadok remained rooted in place, unafraid. His eyes locked with the scorpion’s, each recognizing that one of them would soon be dead.
At the last possible second, Tzadok swung his hammer. Not at the colossal arachnid itself, but at the column he was standing next to. The heavy head of the ancient weapon smashed into the creature’s severed legs, which were still embedded in the stone, using them as wedges to break apart the thick supporting bricks. “Watch and fear!” Tzadok bellowed out, his voice dark with blood-hate.
Kobb threw his shoulder against the tall column from the back a second later, directing its fall. The stones toppled over, crushing The Wogosh beneath them, mere feet from Tzadok. The demon’s shell made a horrible cracking sound as the heavy sandstone blocks collided with its body, intermixed with a disgusting wet sound of its innards splattering the wall to its right. The hundreds of air holes on the monster’s abdomen became blood-foamed billows of death, spewing gore like a fountain as it struggled to breathe.
Tzadok walked closer to it and tapped it on the head with his war hammer, making sure he had its attention. “Wherever I’m sending you, fiend? You tell them what happens to all who threaten my woman.”
The monster’s final death-scream of pure insectoid rage was cut off, as Tzadok planted the head of his hammer directly through its brain. Then he repeated the process several more times, to make certain that it was dead.
He pried the weapon from The Wogosh’s shattered shell, ignoring the bloody slime which dripped from the metal like a shower.
Kobb dusted off his hands. “Huh.” He said casually. “I’ve never seen one of these come out in the daytime before. They shun the light. They’re creatures of the darkness and silent places.”
“Well, the beast is dark and silent now.” Tzadok told him, turning his head to check on Tandrea.
Rather than being frightened, the woman had finished wrangling up the spooked horses, and was currently tying them to one of the columns. She was talking to them in calming tones, which Tzadok found oddly endearing.
His prize was just… amazing.
Kobb bent down to The Wogosh and used a knife to split open the creature’s belly, grabbed a large sack-like organ from inside, and yanked it free. He deposited it onto the salt, carefully cutting it open with the dagger. Foul-smelling entrails spilled out at his feet in a pool of oily horror. Intermixed with the flesh was a strange purplish-black liquid, spider-webbing its way through the blood and tissue.
Kobb stuck his little finger into the mysterious substance, then put it to his tongue. He immediately retched and spat onto the salt at his feet. “It’s been ensorcelled.” He informed Tzadok matter-of-factly, getting back to his feet. “Have you angered any wizards lately?”
Tzadok had a pretty good idea who had sent it. And which green linguist they were undoubtedly after. “Don’t tell Tandrea.” He warned, keeping his voice low so that his prize didn’t hear.
“You think this will scare her?”
Tzadok shook his head. “I think she’ll spend the afternoon measuring its corpse.” He started back towards the horses, recognizing that this was a place of magic. You could smell it in the air. And Tzadok hated sorcery. It led only to death. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Chapter Eleven:
Fierce Lawless Passions
Since resources were so scarce on The Great Nothing and the Saltmen lived there alone, they didn’t travel with any furnishings or personal items. They merely made their way along ancient paths, from camp to camp. They’d remain there for a few weeks or months, until the resources were strained, and then they’d move on. Most of their belongings would be left behind, duplicated at each camp, because there was no one else in the kingdom to steal or mess with them anyway. That was the one advantage of living in a place called “The Wasteland.”
At the moment, Tandy was standing inside one of the huts on the edge of the plateau, overlooking the lush Wasteland steppe far below. It was the furthest northern outpost of the Saltmen clan, before passing into the domain of the Horsemen of the Steppe. Further to the north, where the Steppe met the southern edge of the Grizzwood, would be where their meeting was held.
Tandy had never personally been to the Grizzwood, but she had always heard that the swamp made The Great Nothing look like paradise. It was murky and dismal and was unquestionably the worst place in the known world.
She was oddly excited to see it.
Yes, she’d most likely be raped and killed there, but a lot of women had been raped and killed there, so it was to be expected. And since she was traveling with the toughest man in the world as her bodyguard, it was the perfect time to visit.
To be honest, she’d always thought her own homeland was horrible. She wanted to see how good she had unknowingly had it all these years. It might make life there much more tolerable, once she returned.
The idea that she’d one day have to return to Galland was not a happy one. She didn’t miss it. At all.
True, Tzadok didn’t exactly seem like he was anxious to have her leave, but sooner or later, she’d have to go home. Even if he relocated her books, she couldn’t live here forever.
She made a face and went back to surveying her temporary home. As with the other identical rooms in the nearly identical villages which they’d stayed in on their journey, this room consisted of one large space, decorated with random bits of wea
ponry and stolen treasure. A large throne constructed of bones was located in the center, sitting in front of a rather homey little bedroom area.
All in all, it was… pleasant.
There was even a pool outside for bathing, which was a welcomed luxury after so long on horseback. True, the water was absolutely freezing, but it was better than the alternative. Tandy didn’t mind.
She liked it here.
Creating so many nearly identical spaces really made everywhere feel like home, no matter how far away from your point of origin you were. And you always knew right where everything was. It was a remarkable bit of culture. Dozens of villages, spread out over hundreds of square miles, all almost completely the same.
Granted, the village usually had actual people in it, rather than just Tzadok and Tandy, but the point remained the same. She couldn’t exactly blame the community for the fact the others had been forced to stay behind because they weren’t invited to the Council meeting.
Tzadok looked less than pleased with the accommodations and situation, however. He was currently standing in the doorway, frowning out into the darkness.
Despite Kobb’s assurances to the contrary, the dark-haired woman had not returned yet. She’d been gone all day and the temperature was dropping fast. Kobb was currently out looking for her, apparently more in an attempt to keep her from dying in the desert than from a desire to keep her in captivity. Given the freezing sandstorm-level winds, unstable cliffs, and the near total darkness outside, death was a genuine possibility for anyone walking around out there.
“She’s going to get him killed.” Tzadok thought aloud. “We should have just chased her down and chained her up with bands of unbreakable iron.”
“I don’t know why you took her along in the first place.” Tandy added.
“Wasn’t my idea.” Tzadok defended. “I voted to split her skull.”
She frowned, remembering that debate. “That was… perhaps a bit harsh.”
He closed the door and made his way to the throne, sinking into it wearily. “This is a mistake.” He decided. “I made the wrong decision. Again.”
“You second-guess yourself a lot.” Tandy observed. “That’s interesting.” She pursed her lips. “Is it because you doubt your own self-worth?”
“It wasn’t, until you brought it up.”
She winced. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “My own fault.”
She decided to cheer him up and pulled out her notebook. She sat down in the chair in front of the throne, which was placed at a respectfully lower elevation. “Did you want to go over our data points?”
“Sure.” He rested his cheek in his hand. “Share with me the numerical evidence of how I’ve disappointed you today.”
“Actually,” she flipped the page in her notebook so that he could see the data, “you’re up today.”
“That’s nice.” He nodded. “What is the final tally?”
“You’re up to ‘Five.’” She beamed. “You stopped juuuuust shy of ‘Six,’ possibly because you didn’t get angry with anyone today.”
“I crushed a mystic scorpion. Does that not count?”
“Not as much as you’d think, no.” She shook her head. “It was gross. And, obviously, you were kind of a jerk to me.”
“Which time?”
“That’s on a separate table.” She casually flipped to another page. “We’ll go over that later.”
“Can’t wait.”
She looked up at him, ready to record the findings. “And you?”
He met her eyes. “Eight.” He announced, after a moment’s deliberation. “Good solid ‘Eight.’”
“That’s a new record.” She let out in an impressed whisper. “Wow.” She pursed her lips in thought. “I wonder if the change in setting is effecting these feelings of desire?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “But doing that with your mouth sure as hell is.”
And just like that, the mood went from “bored conversation” to “holy crap is this sexy!”
She swallowed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “I don’t… I don’t…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to. I apologize.”
“Aren’t you a professional?” He arched an eyebrow, his voice low. “Maybe you do mean it. Try.”
There was something about his tone which made her absolutely melt. It was so rough and intimate and strong.
Her breathing quickened. “I don’t know how.” She admitted weakly.
His eyes strayed down her body and she found that she didn’t mind. In fact, she once again had the impulse to show him whatever he wanted. There was something about him which inspired her to be positively wanton. And frankly… she liked it.
“You’re… you’re at ‘Six’ now.” She informed him, keeping track of her desire. “Quickly on your way to ‘Seven’…”
“Excellent.” He stood up. “I’m rather curious if once I go past ‘Ten,’ the chart continues to ‘Eleven’ or if it will start over again at ‘One.’”
She shook her head, feeling like her brain was fogged. “It can’t go higher than ‘Ten.’” She informed him softly. “That’s as high as it goes.”
“Don’t sell me short, Prize.” He looked down at her. “Stand up.”
There was a silent power in his tone, which always appealed to her. Not that she liked being given orders… just that in this case, she absolutely did. His strong tone was a definite turn-on and always had been. Except when he was being an idiot. Which wasn’t the case at the moment, so she was fine with it.
She stood up immediately.
“Good girl.” He praised, which shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as she found it. “What’s the word you use so often to describe what you’re doing? Oh yes,” he smiled his impossibly sexy smile, “’participant observation.’” He took another step towards her. “How about, the study stops ‘observing’ and we ‘participate’ in something?”
Her insides clenched, her breathing quickened even further. How could he do that to her with just those words?
She backed away from him. “I think…” She breathed. “I think…”
“I know you do.” He agreed softly. “Very well, I might add.”
“No,” she shook her head, “I think that’s against the rules of the camp.”
“No, it’s not.” He assured her with utter confidence. “I make a lot of bad decisions, but I’d never make a rule as stupid as that.”
“You told me that you did.”
“I never said that.” He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Yes, you did.” She argued. “You said ‘no fucking men.’”
She could tell instantly that choosing his exact vulgar term had been a mistake. He responded to it immediately, his gaze becoming darker and his eyes once again traveling to the parts of her body he was most interested in.
She backed further away from him. “I think I should leave before something unprofessional happens.” She decided weakly, trying to sound sure of herself and not so pathetically desperate for him. She was truly embarrassed for herself over how much she wanted that man.
She went to leave and his arm shot out to slam into the wall, blocking her way.
He loomed over her, an immovable tower of muscle and lust.
She swallowed, her heart beating faster as she instantly realized that there was no way she was leaving this room unless he wanted her to.
And also because he was so close to her again. Every time he was within a foot of her, she got excited.
She backed away towards the rear wall. “I don’t… I don’t…” She stammered, trying to think of something she could say.
He pursued her and braced his arms on either side of her head, penning her in place.
“I’m… frightened.” She whispered, looking away. “Please let me go.”
He watched her for a moment longer, then stepped to the side so that she could get by him. “Of course. Forgive me.”
She hurried towards the door,
feeling the urge to go hide somewhere. Just flee this room and this man and these feelings, and never come back. There was something about him. Something she didn’t recognize, which terrified her. It always had. An unfamiliar sensation she’d never felt before. Something beyond mere desire.
She burst out of the door and into the cold night air, gasping for breath.
Her skin somehow still managed to feel hot, despite the fact it was so cold that she could see her breath and snow dotted the peaks above the camp.
She looked down at the ground, trying to get ahold of herself and her emotions.
One moment, she was standing outside, and the next, she was back in the room. “My… my chosen words left a latent ambiguity.” She informed him, trying to keep her voice steady. “I should have made it clearer that I was referring to you letting me leave the room, not The Wasteland itself. Something like, ‘I am frightened. I wish to leave the room now. Thank you.’” She nodded, then left. She got several steps from the building before again reversing her path and heading back inside. “And by ‘frightened,’ I was obviously referring to the situation and not to any kind of fear that you would act without my consent or engage in any kind of violence against me.” She nodded and started away again, then stopped. “No, no. That’s still not right. Because I would need to make it an imperative conjugation and not…”
Tzadok stalked towards her like a man on a mission, grabbed her around the waist, and effortlessly lifted her off the ground.
She found the sensation altogether pleasurable. It made matters so much easier and less awkward. Yes. He could just do it. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
He carried her to the table in the corner of the room and gently placed her down onto it in a sitting position.
“The… the imperative conjugation would make it clearer that…” She trailed off, recognizing that she was babbling. “I’m… I’m…”
Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian Page 23
