by Dan Decker
Jorad was needed there, and his escort was long overdue. Adar had been feeling uneasy for the last several months, and he was beginning to wish that he'd paid attention to his discomfort. It felt to him like there was a storm just over the horizon but he had decided long ago that he would refuse to act on his fears because if he always paid attention to the little voice in the back of his head that was saying something was wrong, he'd go insane. He just prayed that he wouldn’t later regret blocking out the feeling.
Adar turned to leave and almost knocked over Wes.
“Trying to run me over like you did her?” Wes asked. “If you broke my leg, it’d still be better to be me. Wow, you were rude and to a pretty lady no less!”
Wes was scrawny for seventeen, enough to be mistaken for a kid years younger and easily overlooked. His ears poked out from the side of his head. That together with his too wide mouth probably kept the girls away. He was dressed in his finest clothing as well, but for him, that wasn't saying much. Adar felt a stab of sympathy for the kid.
The lad laughed. “Course, it could just be your game. A woman like that gets what she wants. She’ll just try harder now.”
“How long have you been standing there?” Adar demanded. Wes had a point. Ginne might become more forward. Confound it, what else could Adar do?
“And ripping on the wedding? People already don’t like you as it is.”
“I’m not here to make friends.”
“Jorad’s nice enough, what’s wrong with you? Ginne has managed to overlook that, and you push her away. Is there a bad love affair that you’re still bitter about?” Wes paused. “You do like women don’t you?”
Adar glared at Wes until he looked away.
“I guess it can’t be that since you fathered Jorad, but still, things can change.”
“You talk too much.” Adar had been rude, but he couldn’t think of a way to apologize that wouldn’t encourage Ginne further. Despite the kid’s brash words, Adar regarded him with care. A recently orphaned kid could be given some deference. Given all the kid had been through, Adar couldn’t figure out how he was always smiling. His laugh was often heard around Neberan.
“I don’t speak enough,” Wes said. “If I did, I’d get trampled less.”
“But you’d get kicked more.” Adar couldn’t help but smile, and Wes, unfortunately, took that as a cue to keep talking.
“Ginne’s a nice lady. Not many men would chase her away. Afraid she has the plague? Or maybe it’s been so long since you’ve been with a woman you’ve forgotten how to act. It’s easy. Just relax, it comes naturally.”
“I trust you know.” The kid had a way about him. The easygoing attitude, the constant ribbing, it was hard not to like him. Maybe Wes would have a chance with the ladies after all. “Where’s your woman?”
Wes didn’t miss a step. “At the moment I’m playing the field, you see? Can’t do that with a date chattering away on my arm. Course, if I were your age, I’d take what was offered to me. Before long your hair will all be gray.”
“Would you now?” Right at that moment, Ginne caught Adar looking at her, and he winced. He hated it when somebody had him pegged, especially when he went to great lengths to give them a different impression.
“Not natural you know, ignoring your feelings like this.” Wes turned and looked admiringly after Ginne who noticed and winked at him. “Ah, if I were an older man.”
“Give it a shot anyway,” Adar said as he walked away. “Maybe she’d be up for a kid like you.”
Wes laughed. “She’s almost as old as my mother.” His voice cracked. The pain of her death was evidently still fresh for him. Adar glanced back, but Wes had disappeared.
A few minutes later Adar spotted him chatting with a girl close to his own age on the other side of the square. Always with a smile and up to something. It was good to see somebody enjoying themselves.
Adar continued to scan the crowd from a little bit further away, hoping this time to avoid unwanted conversations. He was concerned about the poster that Neare had mentioned. If that poster had made it here, the bounty hunters wouldn't be too far behind. If that was the case, it was time to leave.
Confound it. He hated having to wait. Jorad's escort should have been here months ago. When Adar was satisfied that Jorad wasn't at the celebration, he left feeling like it had been a waste of time. He needed to know how far along things were with Soret. Adar couldn't let her stop Jorad from fulfilling his duty to Rarbon.
Chapter 2
The last rays of the day lit upon the trees of the forest and caused the leaves to glimmer. Some of which were already turning orange and yellow. Even though a majority of the leaves still held their original color, the reminder of the approaching fall wasn't lost on Jorad Rahid as he made his way down the trail.
He looked through the forest to the large clearing ahead. Clearing wasn’t exactly the right word since it was quadruple the size of Neberan but he couldn’t think of another way to describe it. Little grew in the open area because it was covered with paved rock.
The pavement showed little in the way of wear, despite the fact that Jorad believed it to be well over a thousand years old, maybe from even before the Severing. That wasn’t what drew his eye, though; it was the tower in the center. He was certain it—people from Neberan called it Vigorock—was from before the Severing.
At several places in the clearing, rocks had been mounded up in various formations, the largest of which was several stories high and shaped like a pyramid. These formations looked much newer.
“We need to get back,” Soret Tedenhel said, breaking into his thoughts. “It won’t be long before my dad notices I’m gone.” She was a step or two behind him and was moving carefully, trying to keep her dress from brushing up against the bushes that were crowding the path; it had been made for festivals, not for moving about the woods. He figured she was also getting cold, but didn’t want to say so.
“Besides Vigorock gives me the creeps,” Soret said. “Wish it wasn’t so close to Neberan. I hate seeing it every day.” She fidgeted, her green dress shimmering and Jorad couldn’t help but notice her figure as she shifted, her long black hair twisting around her. She caught him looking, and he returned his attention to Vigorock, a much less impressive view and perhaps less mysterious.
Seeing Vigorock from this close, and it was still almost a mile away, was something else. It was like a big metal spike that was similar to a pyramid at the base, but instead of four sides it had eight. The sides twisted around the length of the tower giving Vigorock an unearthly look. How could anybody live within sight of this and not wonder what it was? More than a thousand years old and the metal hadn’t rusted; its reflected light would have been visible from Zecarani if there wasn’t a mountain range in the way.
Adar was convinced the tower was a weapon and had spent a lot of time trying to puzzle it out. Jorad had wondered about Adar’s sanity when they spent an afternoon circling the tower, stopping every so often so Adar could swipe his thumb along the base. Jorad had asked for an explanation but of course hadn’t received one. Given the fact that his father Adar had been unable to puzzle out Vigorock’s mysteries, he would get itchy feet soon and want to leave Neberan. Jorad was surprised it hadn't already happened. They'd been in Neberan for six months, and that was unusual. The longest they usually stayed somewhere was less than three.
Despite Soret's desire to turn around, Jorad was drawn to the tower and continued to move towards it. He'd never been here at sunset before, and maybe the changing light would give him a fresh perspective on it. Perhaps there would be something with the setting sun that would allow him to unlock its secrets. If it was a weapon as Adar thought, had it been used to fight humans or Hunwei?
Jorad stopped moving forward and looked around. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t explain why he thought that. As he scanned the area, his eyes settled on a clump of vegetation. He wasn’t certain at first what it was that drew his eye to it but there was som
ething about it that was out of place. It looked too thick, as if it had another bush within. He put his hand behind him, hoping that Soret would stop. He could have sworn that he’d just seen eyes.
When the bush began to tremble despite the lack of wind, he unsheathed his sword. It hadn’t been his imagination.
“Watch out!” Jorad said, taking a step back and bumping into Soret. It was as if a bush had decided to get up and move. Human eyes were now peering out from the branches, and a figure was emerging as it pushed through the knee-high grass and stepped out onto the path.
Melyah! The man looked like a walking tree. Attached to his dark clothes were bunches of grass and small twigs. Despite his alarm, Jorad studied the figure, it was a marvelous job of camouflage, and he wished that Adar was here to see it as well. Perhaps between the two of them, they would have been able to figure out the method associated with constructing the disguise. Barely any flesh showed, and his face had been rubbed in something black.
The man’s black hair might have been shoulder length, but it was impossible to tell as it had been worked into his disguise. Grass and brush were interwoven with the hair to form a covering that ran down to his shoulders. He almost reminded Jorad of a young girl who had twisted flowers into a crown and was pretending to be a princess.
As crazy as the disguise looked, Jorad had to admit that it had worked. Sure, he had noticed that something was wrong about the bush, but he spent many hours in the forest because Adar was always dragging him on patrols looking for Hunwei. The average passerby wouldn’t have noted anything to be concerned about and would have walked by none the wiser. Jorad examined the rest of the surrounding area looking for any other irregularities. Even though nothing else moved, he didn't find that very comforting. There were several significant patches of trees and bushes where almost anything could hide. The one this guy had come from was big enough to hide several more just like him. The man kept his arms by his side in a nonthreatening fashion, but Jorad didn't lower his sword.
“Ou Qui!” Soret hissed.
Jorad was glad she couldn’t see his face. He’d been so busy looking for others and admiring how the man had hidden in plain sight that he hadn't given any thought to who the man was, but now he realized that Soret’s observation made sense. He’d never met an Ou Qui, but he’d heard stories about their seeming ability to appear out of nowhere. Now that he’d seen it firsthand, he was impressed. If the Ou Qui could track as well as they hid, he never wanted to be their quarry.
The Ou Qui tensed. In a single motion, the man withdrew two short swords from his side and threw them into the ground. The movement had been fast enough that Jorad didn't have much time to react before the Ou Qui’s short swords stood hilts up, several feet in front of him. His first instinct had been to attack, but when he realized what the man was doing, he stepped back and tried to read the man’s mud covered face. The move had been faster than Jorad had expected, considering the man had moved so carefully when coming out of the trees.
If the Ou Qui attacked, Jorad wasn't sure how the fight would go. He didn’t like that feeling of uncertainty. Most of the armed people he met didn’t scare him, but that wasn’t the case with this guy.
The Ou Qui folded his arms and waited. Jorad couldn't see any emotion on the man’s face.
“I’ve never heard of an Ou Qui throwing down his weapons,” Soret whispered from over Jorad's shoulder. He could feel her brushing up against him. In another circumstance, he would have been thrilled with the contact. It was the closest she’d gotten to him all evening, but now he could only think about making sure he got her out of this alive.
The Ou Qui weren’t exactly known for being trustworthy unless they’d taken an oath. If placing swords in the ground was some sort of custom, Jorad had never heard of it, but he had little experience with them. They lived in the southern rain forests, and they didn't usually come this far north. Jorad had once talked with a merchant who claimed that the Ou Qui collected human ears from surprised victims and wore them as jewelry. Jorad hadn’t believed it because he’d never met anyone claiming to have lost an ear to the Ou Qui.
The man was staring at Jorad’s sword. The message was clear, but Jorad was hesitant to put it down. He didn't want to be unarmed, and if he thrust it into the ground as well, he'd need to clean and sharpen it afterward.
He waited until it started to become awkward. Finally, when he could think of nothing else to do, he stabbed his sword into the moist earth in front of him. He would have preferred to just return it to his sheath, but if the Ou Qui had just made some sort of peace offering, Jorad didn’t want to offend him. His sword was two feet longer than the Ou Qui's short swords and wasn’t as decorated. The hilts of the Ou Qui's short swords were made from wrought gold and shone in the evening light. It was strange that a man so consumed with not being seen, carried weapons that reflected the light so easily.
Jorad hadn’t noticed the swords until the Ou Qui had removed them from their sheaths. If the Ou Qui was close enough to use them, perhaps it didn’t matter if anybody saw them reflecting light.
The Ou Qui nodded. “Took you long enough. Now that's out of the way, we can chat. I'm Ruder.”
Jorad quickly covered his surprise. He had been expecting primitive speech and had been prepared to use his hands to communicate if necessary. Ruder spoke with the air of an educated man.
“What do you want?” Jorad wouldn’t offer up their names unless he absolutely had to, and if it came to that he’d probably make something up. For many years, he and Adar had gone by different names on a regular basis and normally he had one already in mind. It was only recently that Adar had relaxed enough that they'd started using their first names. Using their last names was still out of the question and always would be. It wasn’t wise, even this far from Rarbon, to let anyone know he was a Rahid.
Ruder gazed from Soret to him as if sizing them up. An Ou Qui wanting to talk. Who’d ever heard of such a thing?
“Not much on formalities I see. No matter. How many more are there with you? When was Neberan was attacked?”
The question caught Jorad off guard. “What are you talking about? Neberan is just fine.” He didn’t answer the first question on purpose. He didn’t want Ruder knowing they were alone. The questions left him unsettled and would have raised his level of alertness if he wouldn’t have already been well past the point of being afraid for their lives. A man that could have slit their throats without warning was enough to do that.
Were the Ou Qui planning an attack? As a people, they had a reputation as some of the best warriors around. If they weren’t at war with themselves, they were marching off to battle their neighbors. That was the reason why the rain forests hadn’t seen more settlers. The Ou Qui wouldn’t allow it. There was supposed to be good hunting down there, but even Adar, who was drawn to such things, hadn’t shown much interest in heading that way when Jorad had suggested it. He’d said that it wasn’t worth dealing with the Ou Qui.
Ruder might have looked perplexed, but it was impossible to tell. The dark coloring of his camouflage combined with the failing light seemed to erase all his emotions.
“I thought it would have been attacked at the same time as Wasat,” Ruder said as if speaking to himself. He shook his head, causing his camouflage braided hair to wrap around his face; bits of the vegetation were flung off. It reminded Jorad of a dog shaking off water. The movement gave him a glimpse of netting around Ruder’s neck and the method to the disguise began to make sense. Jorad would relate what he saw to Adar, and they could try developing their own.
The name Wasat sounded familiar, and it took Jorad several moments to remember that it was the Ou Qui capitol. An attack on Wasat wasn’t that surprising, given what he knew of them.
“I mistook you as survivors,” Ruder said glancing at his swords, “or refugees.” Jorad inched forward hoping that Ruder wouldn’t notice. If Ruder suddenly went for his weapons, Jorad intended to see that he didn’t get them. “You’
re both wearing strange clothes for a stroll through the woods.”
“Just skipping a wedding,” Soret said. “Never did care for Sarai or Toni, but I suppose it’s good they found each other.” Jorad half turned towards her but didn't take his eyes off Ruder. She was telling too much, and her tone didn’t sound nearly as alarmed as he felt. Perhaps her glibness was just how she dealt with stress. He didn’t know her well enough to say for sure, and he made a small waving motion with his hand hoping to stop her from saying more, but he wasn’t certain that she saw it.
“Zictar,” Ruder nodded towards Vigorock, “is a dangerous place for a stroll.”
Zictar? Jorad hadn't heard that name before. It made sense that the Ou Qui would have their own name for the tower considering how prominent it was. He wondered if the word Zictar meant something. He had tried to find meaning for the word Vigorock but hadn't been able to come up with anything. He repeated the name several times to imprint it into his memory. Perhaps it would ring a bell for Adar and prove to be useful information.
“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Soret said. “He comes every week.” Jorad suppressed a growl and hoped that she’d be quiet. He didn’t want it getting around that he was interested in Vigorock. It might be an old weapon, but it was a weapon. He didn’t want to draw the Ou Qui’s attention. He didn’t think that she’d been listening when he’d mentioned that, he’d have to be more careful with her.
“You’re surprised Neberan is still standing,” Jorad said, eager to change the subject, “why?” A single man wasn’t much of a threat to a town, even one as small as Neberan. Unless Ruder was a scout for an Ou Qui army, there wasn’t much he could do to harm the little town.
“Neberan is in no danger from us.” Ruder’s tone was flat showing that he had picked up on Jorad’s implication. “We’re at war with somebody else.”
