“Oooooh, fuck!” Violet made a disgusted face. “Do I really have to? Can’t we like… smother him in his sleep or something? Just start fresh with a new one? Please?”
He snorted in amusement. “He’d be expecting it from you, Flower. Sorry.”
She ran her hand over his cheek. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m telling you right now, our family is an asshole.”
“Well, he’s young.” He pulled away from her so that he could add another log to their fire, prying it from the wall. The movement exposed the fact that she’d accidentally dug her nails into his back hard enough to draw blood when she’d climaxed. Whoops. He didn’t appear to even notice. “I’m finding that I like being married too though, you’re right.” He held up his hand to display the iron ring he wore, which she’d given him. “And in case I’ve never told you, people from The Wasteland love jewelry.”
“It looks good on you.” She told him sincerely, getting an odd thrill from seeing the familiar band on his finger. It was like a silent symbol of their love. …And a not so subtle threat to all the other Wasteland bitches to keep their fucking hands OFF her man!
He winked at her. “Not as good as you do.”
She started laughing. “You’re better at being ‘wise’ than you are at being ‘flirty,’ Kobb.”
“Well, I’m new to it. Give me time. I haven’t had a reason to flirt with anyone in… well… ever.”
“Feel free to practice on me all you want. But, fair warning, I’m going to laugh at you a lot. Because you suck at it.” She started towards the furs arranged in the corner of the hut by the fire, which served as a makeshift bed. “In the meantime…”
He watched her bare rear as she walked, his body noticeably stirring in desire. “Ooooh… my wife is a woman of so many sexual possibilities…”
She sank down onto the furs, giving him her best “come hither” sexy pose over her shoulder as she crawled across the bedding. “We still have some time before your asshole nephew gets back...”
“Our asshole nephew.” He corrected. “He’s your family too, which means you share half the blame.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fuck. Forgot about that.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad.” His hands were on her again almost immediately, picking right up where they’d left off a moment before.
“Yes, he is. He’s a…” She trailed off in another embarrassing whimpering moan as he entered her from behind, his hard body returning home like it had never left.
Kobb’s hands closed over her breasts, pulling her body against him. “I think he’ll be so happy for us…”
Chapter Twenty:
Soft as Glass
“She’s probably already killed him.” Tzadok predicted again, sounding resigned to the inevitable at this point. “I have little doubt, in fact.”
Tandy rolled her eyes. Tzadok had several favorite things to complain about. Among that short list were: the fact that Tandy wouldn’t sleep with him until tomorrow, the fact that the Coastal People would dare to try to take her away from him, the fact that she refused to acknowledge their Keeper of Heart status until he delivered her books, and the fact that his uncle hadn’t just killed Violet weeks ago.
Since he’d spent the better part of the day obsessing about the first items on that list, it left only his grave prophecies of Kobb’s doom to fill the rest of the trip.
Honestly, Tandy wasn’t sure which of the topics she found most tiresome. But at least this one didn’t involve explaining herself, which was nice.
“I’m sure he’s fine.” She said for the hundredth time. She really wasn’t at all worried about them, to be honest. Kobb could handle himself and didn’t seem to be complaining too much about Violet’s presence in his life.
At the moment, they were still scouting ahead, searching for signs of Xiphos or the Coastal People. They were in a sort of no-man’s-land, on the border of The Wasteland and Galland, trying to go around their enemies and return home. Tzadok was sure that someone was in the area, so he wanted to quietly search for them, to avoid an ambush down the road. And Tandy had come along because… well… she wasn’t exactly sure. Officially, she was here as an interpreter. But unofficially, she just liked being around the man. Again, he made her feel… good.
There really wasn’t any chance that she was going to let him wander off into the mountains without her. She’d read enough books in her life to know that’s how bad things happened to the hero’s love. And in Tandy’s mind, that’s what he was. A hero.
She frowned slightly, realizing that she’d just ignored the bigger part of that idea. She’d classified herself as his “love” automatically. Which was… a very scary concept.
It was easy to go along with The Wasteland’s poetic ideas about “prizes” and “Keepers of Heart,” but it was quite another to stop and think about “love.”
Not that Tandy really had to think about it much. She already knew the answer. Which was why the idea was so terrifying. And probably why the man himself had always scared her. Well… besides the fact that he’d massacred an army of her countrymen in front of her. That too. But it was mainly the love thing.
She jumped down from a large overhang, landing in his arms so that she didn’t fall. “Do you think our relationship is growing stale?”
“How can it possibly grow stale?” He asked in confusion. “You haven’t even admitted that we have a relationship yet.”
“Not until I get my books, I won’t.” She shook her head, and poked him in the chest with her finger. “That’s a verbal contract. I’m holding you to that.”
She started off down the rough trail they were following. It was mostly hidden in the loose stones and decaying leaves, but she could still make it out now that she had more practice.
When they’d begun the journey, the area they’d been traveling through had been controlled by the River People, one of The Wasteland’s now vanished clans. The culture was gone, but their impact on the environment was still here.
As the day wore on though, the landscape around them had changed. She suspected that they had passed through the River People’s former territory now and were somewhere new. This land looked… wilder. Scarier. Dead trees and craggy canyons. The river was nowhere in sight and there were odd unknown animals lurking in the shadows.
“Where are we?” She finally asked.
“At the moment? We are moving through the lands of the Wizard of the Glass Tower.”
She looked around in interest. “Are we expecting him to… show up? Attack us?”
“Only if this is the day dead men walk.” He shook his head. “And this is not that day, Tandrea.”
“So…”
“He’s dead.” He reaffirmed. “My ancestors wiped him out and toppled his tower.” He looked around at their surroundings. “But the land remembers. He was a servant of darkness. Another acolyte of The One Who Wears Shadows, like Gnag, your friend Sex’s master.” He pointed to the remains of what appeared to be a stone gate, which was laying in pieces on the ground, but featured the symbol of the cult. “The River People refused to move into this place, even after the wizard had been defeated. They said that some rocks have memories. And the darkness never forgets.”
“Huh.” She reached down to pick up a stone tablet and read what was written on it. Before she got the chance though, Tzadok grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t.” He advised, his voice serious. “Don’t touch anything here.”
She straightened, the tablet forgotten. “Our feet are touching the ground right now.” She pointed out logically.
“We can walk here just fine, but reading dark magic spells you find scattered around the fallen ruins of an evil wizard’s lair is probably a bad idea, Tandrea.”
“It’s magic!?!” She brightened, genuinely interested now. “You didn’t tell me that! I want to see it!”
He shook his head. “Please don’t.” He asked again. “If my day ends with me fighting off an army of skeleton warriors you’ve accidenta
lly conjured, I will not be happy.”
“You need to have more faith in me.” She made a face at him, absently reading other inscriptions as she walked by. “I mean, just because I now know how to turn virgins into monsters doesn’t mean I’d ever actually do it.” She paused. “Unless, obviously, it was in a controlled laboratory environment. In which case, I’d have to. For scholarship.”
“The ‘scholarship’ of turning virgins into horrifying beasts?” He repeated. “I don’t… I don’t think that’s a real study.”
“But I could make it a study, Tzadok!” She argued logically, pointing at the large stele which according to its title, contained the fascinatingly vague but exciting spell. “I could be the first to…”
“No.”
“All I’m saying is that…”
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have no respect for learning, you know that?”
“If you say so.” He agreed humoringly. “I guess I just object to using dark magics to break the laws of man and Chox, that’s all. I don’t know why, I guess I’m just silly.”
She crossed her arms over her chest sulkily. “I don’t know why you’re not more interested in the history of your homeland.”
“We’re closer to your homeland than mine at the moment.” He reminded her, pointing off to the western horizon, over the cliffs, where Galland was located. “If your countrymen haven’t already all executed each other yet, they’re over there.”
They reached the end of the canyon, where a large tree of black wood grew. The tree looked dead, but from its branches hung a dozen weathered human skulls, dangling in the breeze on fraying ropes. Or possibly bits of sinew from mutilated corpses.
Tandrea stared at it for a moment, unable to move.
“What a beautiful species of tree…” She mouthed in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Tzadok kept walking. “I’m not even going to pretend to be surprised by the fact that you love the Grave Tree, Tandrea. Of course you do. Because every other living thing in the world finds it terrifying and knows well enough to stay away from it.” He slapped the back of his hand into his palm. “It is a warning. That magic is not to be trifled with because sorcery is the domain of the weak. We need to keep moving through this foul place as quickly as possible.”
“What subspecies is it?” She asked excitedly, looking for a cutting of the tree which she could perhaps plant once she returned to camp. “Is it naturally black or is it the result of magic? Did the evil wizard mention if it was native to this area or an invasive species he brought in to be scary?”
Tzadok heaved a sigh. “I’m sure that was my ancestors’ first question, Tandrea. First they asked him about the botanical origins of his evil murdering demon tree, and then they asked for the return of The Wasteland’s stolen daughters and wives.”
“Can I take a piece of it?”
“Only if you don’t mind it screaming every time the wind blows.”
Sure enough, a moment later, a gust of cold wind blew down the canyon, causing the tree to make an unearthly screeching sound. She wasn’t sure what caused that, but she theorized that it was either the texture of the porous bark catching the wind like an instrument, or the souls of the tree’s victims crying out in everlasting excruciating torment. But either way, it was the best thing she’d ever seen! Or heard, as it were.
“I don’t mind at all, no!” She quickly took a few samples of the tree, theorizing that Kobb would probably like a few as well. Who wouldn’t!?! The tree was amazing!
“From this point on, do not say any names.” He told her ominously. “The spirits which dwell here are easily conjured.”
Beyond the tree, scattered around the hillside in front of them in heaps, were huge blocks of ancient black volcanic glass. It looked like at one time they’d all been part of the same titanic structure, but it had long since fallen over. Grass grew between the jagged shards now, but the points and edges still looked razor sharp.
Also arranged around the area were vaguely humanoid glass shapes, seemingly at random. At first, she assumed that they were statues of some kind, but now she could see that they were… people. Like they’d been turned to black glass by some unseen magical force and were now frozen forever.
“I’m just going to say it,” she informed him, “this place is much cooler than The Great Nothing.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “The pass back into The Wasteland is four hours south of here.” He pointed to the mountains in front of them, which curved along the horizon, separating the valley they were in from the coast, The Great Nothing, and from Galland. “Once I am confident that the way is clear, we will return to the River People camp and retrieve my uncle.”
She nodded, paying more attention to the surroundings than to him at the moment. “If this place is so bad, why are we strolling through it?”
“My people have already slaughtered the master of this foul keep.” He dismissively kicked one of the glass blocks, shattering it. “I am not afraid of dead enemies. If worse comes to worse, I will simply kill him again.” He shook his head. “My Heart is entirely safe from dead wizards and the bones of monsters, don’t worry.”
His words sounded more confident than his tone. For all his tremendous strength and ability, she knew that he always had a thing about magic.
He didn’t like it. And being surrounded by it must be very hard for him.
“Our love is the only thing which can protect us from the evil of this place.” He looked around suspiciously, as if trying to spot malevolent spirits. “Only by acknowledging our love can we…”
“Oh, you’re such a liar!” She interrupted, swatting at his arm and laughing. “You’re just making that up!”
“It couldn’t hurt!” He retorted, stifling a smile. “Fine. What about tomorrow?” Tzadok asked, holding out his hand so that she didn’t slip on the loose gravel as they climbed up the hill. “We will still mate tomorrow, yes?” He turned towards her, obviously expecting her to argue that point. “It’s in the book! Whatever’s in the book is beyond question, even if you don’t have your other non-sex books yet.”
“Well, of course.” She shrugged. “That’s an experiment that we need to perform in order to fully understand these anomalous feelings.”
“Romantic.” He deadpanned. “It warms my heart and loins to hear you put it into such beautiful terms.” He sighed in sarcastic emotion. “I’ve always wanted to be called an ‘experiment.’”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” She swatted at his arm again. “And stop pretending like you care. I could take notes during the act and you’d still be happy, just so long as my clothes were off.”
“I do care!” He insisted. “Believe me, I’ve gone out of my way to humor you on this. I am not good at waiting. For anything. I hope you realize that I think I’m going above and beyond here. But I absolutely care about how you think of this. There is nothing in this world I want more than your full and complete attention during the whole of your ‘experiment’ with me.”
She paused to examine some etchings on one of the glass people. Someone had carved something into the forehead of one of the ancient black glass bodies. It appeared to be the ever-popular graffito: “Who lit Bonnie’s dress?”
It was scrawled on walls all over Galland too, referencing one of the queens who’d burned to death in The Feast of Burning Kings.
Personally, Tandy didn’t understand it. But the words apparently spoke to some people, who couldn’t help but question the circumstances behind the act which had launched the world into total war.
For some reason, the simple words always made her… afraid. They were ominous. Threatening, somehow. Seemingly everywhere, following you. You couldn’t escape them. Even here, in a haunted forgotten corner of The Wasteland.
Tandy could look at corpses hanging from trees and magical spells about monsters, without any problem.
But the graffiti about Bonnie’s dress frightened her.
&nb
sp; “We can just forget the whole thing, if you want.” She offered, sick of hearing him congratulate himself for not simply ripping her clothes off, with or without her permission.
“No, no.” He quickly backed down. “I am not complaining, just stating a fact.”
She pointed at other writing on one of the walls, which appeared more recent than the ancient incantations but older than the one about Bonnie’s dress. “Can you read this? What does it say?”
He glanced disinterestedly at the inscription. “It says: ‘Brynt’s mother is mounted by horses.’”
Tandy frowned, unhappy to learn that something which looked so mysterious and elegant could be so vulgar.
“What?” Tzadok was confused by her reaction. “She probably was.”
She started down the path again. “The problem with your entire culture is that you only take the time to record the worst parts of life. You care about wars and you care about infidelities.” She waved her arms to accentuate the point. “You don’t care about poetry! Or music!” She removed the glass bottle Kobb had given her from her pocket. “This is the only real art the Saltmen seem to have.”
“We probably stole that, actually.” Tzadok informed her, without missing a beat. “I certainly don’t remember anyone making something that ugly. Not during my rule, anyway. I demand more sense from my people.”
She heaved a tired sigh. “And that’s the problem.”
“Do you intend to tell us how to live now? How to be ‘civilized’?” He arched an eyebrow. “Is that not against your rules? Doesn’t the god ‘Science’ command against that?”
She shook her head. “I’m not trying to change your culture, I just wish it weren’t so…”
“Barbaric.” He finished for her.
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“We’re barbarians.” He reminded her, sounding amazed. “That’s… what we do. We don’t do art.” He walked closer to her. “We don’t do songs, or lovely portraits of beautiful things.” He towered over her, looking into her eyes. “We do not need to make pretty things. We are strong enough to simply take the things we want.” He leaned closer to her. “And there isn’t a man in any kingdom who can stop us.”
Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian Page 41
