by Joe Jackson
More soldiers formed up ahead of them, and Erik started to turn, to try to outpace them to one side or another. It hardly occurred to him that many of them were elestram and he’d have no more luck outrunning them than keeping up with his companion. When it did, it finally dawned on him that Tarra was not running away from these soldiers, but directly to them. Only then did he notice that they were crossing a road.
We made it, he thought. We must be in Ekkristis.
“Don’t stop on the road! Keep going!” Tarra shouted over her shoulder.
Erik crossed into Ekkristis before he stopped, and the moment he did, his legs gave way and he sank to his knees, still sucking down air. He turned as he collapsed, watching Sharyn throw aside those foolish enough to try to apprehend her physically. They started trying to kill her, but didn’t have much more luck with that. They couldn’t contain her savage fury, and Erik wanted to cheer when Sharyn finally broke free of the entanglements and dashed toward him.
“Do not move,” came a voice from behind him in infernal.
Erik held his hands out to the sides, showing he was unarmed and not resisting. Sharyn saw what was happening when she reached them, and she crouched down beside Erik and did the same thing. Orders were barked in infernal, but neither Erik nor Sharyn could understand what was being said. Tarra spoke back and forth with the guards, and after a minute, they got the three prisoners on their feet. Several threats were shouted back and forth across the border, but there were no hostilities exchanged. Soon, the soldiers began to march the prisoners east.
“What did you tell them?” Erik huffed once he was close enough to Tarra. His lungs and his legs were still burning, but with the more leisurely pace, he could deal with both.
“I surrendered us to them as border crossers, and asked to plead our case directly to King Lestanaek the Blademaster,” she answered. “Our fates are now in his hands.”
He flinched as Sharyn pulled the arrow free from his wing and tossed it aside. “Won’t we get in trouble for crossing the border illegally?” he asked.
“Perhaps, but we may be allowed to leave if we tell him our only intention was to reach the road to Anthraxis. The imminence of capture is reason enough not to have remained on the road itself. Now, if we are respectful and promise to leave without delay, we may be spared.”
The guards paid little mind to their conversation, more interested in Sharyn’s appearance. They clearly didn’t know what to make of her. She was nearly the size of an erestram, but the legs, jaws, and claws were markedly different. She was at once familiar to the beshathans and yet unlike anything they’d likely ever seen. Erik was glad she had found him and Tarra. If they had tried to cross the border without her help, he imagined they’d be on their way back to Dauchin-Rache. The werewolf stayed in her hybrid form, and for that, Erik was thankful. There was no telling what their captors might do if they knew she was a shape-shifter.
Ekkristis didn’t look like a sizeable realm, but the titanic peak skewed Erik’s perspective. It took them more than a day to march to it, and he found there was an impressive citadel nestled against the mountain’s base when they arrived. Lestanaek might not have a massive realm or military, but Erik was sure this citadel could hold out against even the largest army for some time. It was the kind of place he imagined Aeligos or Kris would be hard-pressed to overtake.
They were marched through the citadel’s open gates without ceremony, drawing many a wide-eyed stare. Erik realized again, though, that they were primarily drawn to Sharyn. Tarra was one of them, after all, and apparently, they didn’t find serilian-rir all that interesting. Once they were inside the citadel, Sharyn stretched out to her full height and began walking upright, something that commanded both attention and respect – and, if Erik’s senses didn’t deceive him, a sense of kinship from the many erestram that stood vigil around the baileys.
There was a good deal of activity around the inner keep, which they only reached after passing through three baileys. It seemed an excessive amount of defensive fortification, but Erik considered what little he knew of King Lestanaek. Despite being called The Blademaster and reputed to have never lost a fight, he was a low-ranked king. His realm was comprised of some high-reaching mountains, so Erik further assumed the population was small, and that the king didn’t have a sizeable army. From his studies of the old Anthraxis Council Codex – something Kari needed to update when she found the time – Erik understood that Lestanaek had at least three neighbors who could legally invade.
Perhaps, he mused, these defenses are barely adequate.
Their escorts brought them into the citadel’s halls without any fanfare or long series of questions from the outer guards. Erik and especially Sharyn continued to draw attention, but something had the soldiers on edge.
I hope we haven’t started a war between Arku and Lestanaek, Erik thought. That would not be a good way to introduce myself to a king that probably already hates me on account of being a demonhunter.
The most amazing thing about the inner keep was that it was carved into the side of the mountain, and yet the masonry and craftsmanship were still superb. Lestanaek didn’t seem to put much stock in the way his citadel looked, but there were hints of artistic flair everywhere, the touches of workers who cared more than the resident king. That only became more obvious once some bas-relief artwork made appearances, telling what looked to be the story of the king’s origins, though Erik was at a loss as to what exactly it all meant.
Soon enough, they were escorted into an audience chamber, where the bustle and chaos were at a fevered pitch. Even the throne and the high dais it sat upon were carved from the rock, many different parts and yet all one seamless piece. Erik had seen some grand things in his time – the temples of the Holy City of Sarchelete not the least among them – but this was something else entirely. If it wasn’t for the chaotic atmosphere of the place, Erik would’ve liked to walk around and inspect the craftsmanship up close. All of the commotion came to a halt, however, when the king’s cool, blue-eyed gaze swept over the newest arrivals.
King Lestanaek gestured the prisoners and their escorts forward, and the scribes and other retainers crowding the room moved to the sides, opening the central floor. Erik followed Tarra, who approached the king without any prodding from the guards. When they came before the dais, she bowed down to her knees in subjection to the monarch. Erik followed suit. To his surprise, Sharyn dropped to one knee, as awkward as it was.
Lestanaek approached, descending the dais to stand before the three kneeling prisoners. He was massive even for an erestram, broad with a gray and white coat. He wore armor, which only made him look that much more impressive, and the two war scythes crossing his back said this was not a demon king to be trifled with – not that there were any. Erik wasn’t surprised when the erestram king stepped before Sharyn and gestured her to her feet casually.
The king asked something of the werewolf, but it was Tarra who answered, though she kept her eyes on the floor. Lestanaek regarded the elestram woman for a moment, then turned back to Sharyn. “This other one is familiar to me, but I have not seen your kind here before; what are you?” the erestram asked in an accented Citarian trade tongue.
Sharyn made no reply, but soon the black hairs that covered her from head to clawed toes began to recede. The sound of bones popping and rearranging echoed through the silence of the chamber, and every eye in the audience hall watched as she transformed from a massive beast to a comparably small human woman. The werewolf made no move to cover herself, standing completely nude in the center of the chamber, and the strength of her stare as she held the king’s gaze was amazing to behold.
Lestanaek blinked a couple of times before pointing at a nearby courtier without looking in the mallasti’s direction. He snapped his fingers, and the mallasti took off its cloak and handed it to the king. The erestram monarch then wrapped Sharyn in it while he took the time to find a voice for his thoughts.
“It has been ages since I have
even heard tales of the sheda-reis – the skin-walkers, I believe, in your tongue,” the king said. He looked around at his people, giving them a moment to process what they’d just seen. Then he gestured toward the doors. “Leave us. Attend to the duties I have placed in your care.”
Once the chamber had been cleared and the doors closed, Lestanaek turned his attention back to his guests. “Arise. I regret that I have little time to speak with you, but I must depart for the council session shortly. Who are you, and why are you here?”
“Your Majesty,” Tarra said with a formal bow. “I am Kuritarra Kivekt of Si’Dorra. It was by my suggestion that this man followed me here to escape the realm of Lord Arku. He is a Citarian hunter, but was captured and tortured by Lord Arku until I freed him and we fled. We wish to cause you no trouble, but only to pass through your realm on our way to Anthraxis.”
Lestanaek’s ears perked up at the words Citarian hunter, but he made no immediate reply to Tarra’s explanation. Instead he looked at Sharyn. “And you?”
“I went with some friends to rescue Erik, Your Majesty,” the werewolf answered. “I was the only one that could catch up to them before they crossed your border. I will also leave your realm as soon as possible, if you allow it.”
“Are you known to me, hunter?” the king asked, moving before Erik.
Erik hesitated, but bowed his head. “Erijinkor Tesconis, Devilhunter, by Zalkar’s grace.”
“Tesconis?”
The demonhunter flinched at the vehemence behind his name being repeated. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Perhaps your family is known to me. My cousin speaks highly of a Corbanis Tesconis. Are you his sibling, or child, or otherwise related…?”
“Corbanis is my father, Your Majesty,” Erik said slowly. “How… who is your cousin?”
“Trigonh Cabra.”
Even Sharyn balked at that. “Trigonh is your cousin?”
“Distantly, but we are of the same clan: Clan Cabra,” King Lestanaek answered. “Then you must be acquainted with Lady Karian Vanador, your Avatar of Vengeance?”
“She’s my sister-in-law, Your Majesty,” Erik said.
The great wolf-king bobbed his head in satisfaction. “Then I shall name a price for allowing you to pass through my lands without penalty. I want you to deliver a message to Lady Vanador when you see her: I respectfully request she come see me personally, here in Ekkristis, far from the prying eyes of the Overking or my other peers, at her earliest convenience.”
“I think she will be very interested in meeting you, Your Majesty.”
“And you, little sister Kivekt? Where do you go from here?”
Tarra bowed her head. “I hope to go with these two to Citaria, to hide from the wrath of Lord Arku.”
“Interesting. You understand I cannot send an escort with you, but you should be safe along the road to Anthraxis if you avoid entering the realms of the other kings. I will far outpace you, so you will not travel with me either way. Make all due haste to the city of the Overking, for the meeting of the council may cover your egress.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Tarra said, being echoed by Erik and Sharyn.
“And you, skin-walker… would you do me the honor of accompanying Lady Vanador if and when she comes to visit me? I should very much like to speak with you about your kind when I am not pressed for time.”
“With pleasure, Your Majesty. Thank you for your kindness,” Sharyn replied.
Erik was impressed with Sharyn’s manners. She had heard plenty about the kings, and was familiar with their power and the danger of crossing them, but she had never been one to act prim and proper. He wondered if it was a result of courting Sherman, but didn’t want to say anything or even smile to suggest he found her mannerisms funny. She could be a touchy thing, and he didn’t feel like being called a dickhead again, certainly not in front of Tarra.
“I will instruct my courtiers to see to your provisioning for a trip to Anthraxis, but now I must take my leave. Farewell.”
Once Lestanaek left the audience hall, some of the courtiers returned. They spoke with Tarra in beshathan, and she bid Sharyn and Erik follow an elestram male to go get outfits. Erik couldn’t imagine they had anything that would fit him with the differences in body styling, but if they could so much as give him a robe, it would be an improvement. Tarra, by contrast, went with another elestram, presumably to pack a satchel with food and other sundries.
“Got to admit, I thought we were in for it when we were taken into custody,” Sharyn muttered as they followed their elestram escort down a hallway. The courtier paid her words little heed, though whether that meant he couldn’t speak the Citarian trade tongue or simply hid the fact that he was eavesdropping, Erik couldn’t say.
“Compared to where I was, almost anything was preferable,” Erik said, managing to chuckle. The pain was a memory, but the memory of the pain was another matter. He needed something to cleanse his mind, and he could think of two things that would accomplish that: Getting home to his family, and exploring his relationship with Tarra.
That thought was sharply interrupted when Sharyn leaned toward him and gave him a long, appraising sniff. The werewolf didn’t say anything, only smiled, and Erik cursed in the back of his mind. Just how sensitive was that nose?
“Look, Sharyn, I–”
She stopped and clamped his snout shut with one hand. She smiled again and patted the side of his face. “No explanation needed, Erik.”
Sharyn was such an enigma to him, but he knew the explanation was going to be more for himself than for her. He remembered how he’d reacted to finding out Sherman was courting the werewolf, and he was glad to find Sharyn didn’t hold a grudge. Now that he thought about it, he could see the whole situation from Sherman’s point of view, and he felt like he owed the young man an apology. How had he ever thought of Sharyn as anything less than a person?
“I’ve been such an ass,” he muttered as they reached a side room and were ushered in by their elestram escort.
“I didn’t say anything,” Sharyn insisted.
“I know, and that makes it worse,” Erik sighed.
“Let me stop you before you get apologetic,” the werewolf said with an upraised hand. “I’ve never particularly liked your kind, either. A guardian demon killed me, Erik, and for the longest time, I’ve held demons and half-demons alike in complete contempt. Your family is a big part of the reason I’ve reined that in a bit. But I still have my old prejudices. I still tend to think of your people as half-demons.”
“But I’m changing, Erik. You’re changing. That’s what’s important. You want to know what the most amazing thing is about your sister-in-law? It’s not that she kills demon princes, or that she’s probably the best demonhunter and one of the bravest people that’s ever lived. It’s the fact that everyone around her changes. Everyone she meets or leads changes, they become better people, and not because she shames them or tells them they’re wrong. Am I safe in saying you and I are better people since we met her, and even since we met each other?”
“I think it’s a fair assessment,” he agreed. He paused while Sharyn turned away and took off the cloak to begin putting on some offered clothes from the elestram.
While Sharyn got dressed, their elestram escort inspected the wound left behind by the arrow that had lodged in Erik’s wing, but the demonhunter waved off his concern. The wound was minor, and would heal with time alone. It wasn’t anywhere near the wing wound Kari had suffered on Tsalbrin.
When Sharyn turned back to him, Erik smiled. “Do you still think I’m a dickhead?”
“Oh, you totally are,” Sharyn laughed. Her look turned more serious then. “You’ve got your father’s convictions and determination, but not his experience. I think he’s seen a lot more over the years than you have, but if you turn into a man like him, you’re going to make a real difference in the world, Erik. And… maybe in that woman’s life.”
He had nothing to say to that. He looked away, but S
haryn stepped forward and turned him back to face her. “Do you love her?”
Erik pursed his lips. “This is something entirely new to me, but I think so.”
“Concentrate on that. Don’t start worrying about what anyone else is going to think. They’re not going to be in bed with you, or helping you run a household or raise children. So don’t let them make any of those decisions for you.”
Erik laughed, thinking of Kari’s similar advice years ago. He shook his head. “Are you and Sherman considering having some children? Or getting married?”
“More than likely yes on both counts,” she answered with a subdued smile. “But we’ll see. If we have to trudge through another realm trying to rescue your silly ass, we might not live long enough to do either.”
“Duly noted,” Erik chuckled. He took some offered garments from their elestram guide and got dressed. He was tempted to take off the undergarments Tarra had made for him, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he decided he wanted to keep them. It was a practical gesture from her, but it felt like so much more. Simple as they were, they had been a gift, and a hand-made one at that.
Their escort brought them back to the audience hall then, where they met with Tarra. She had a shoulder pack of supplies, but Erik took it from her and slung it over his uninjured wing. It was a bit awkward, but she smiled her thanks, and Erik didn’t miss Sharyn’s smile behind her.
“How dangerous is it going to be on the road to Anthraxis, did they say?” he asked.
“The roads between realms are neutral ground by the Overking’s law. That does not guarantee our safety, but it does make anyone attacking us unlikely. No one wants to suffer the consequences of breaking the Overking’s laws.”
“His laws didn’t help much when I was taken from Anthraxis,” Erik muttered. “Or when we reached the road the first time, for that matter.”
“When you were taken from Anthraxis, it was likely because you are a hunter. And they would not have halted pursuit if we simply reached the road; the roads are not sanctuaries in that manner. Now you travel with a Mehr’Durillian and a sheda-reis, so there is both more and less risk – a strange concept, I will grant, but the truth nonetheless.”
