Merros was far too busy staring at the dead monster’s carcass to answer Wollis’ question. The damned things had hides thick enough to slow a crossbow bolt. They had bone plates under the skin in a dozen different places. He wasn’t completely sure, but he was fairly certain that the cut Tusk made carved through at least one of the bones.
Tusk stood up and raised his massive sword over his head, roaring to the heavens. “Durhallem!” The war cry was nearly as loud as the roar of the monsters he and his brethren had just slaughtered.
Wollis led his horse in a wide circle. The animal was well-trained and had been steady through the entire time they’d been on the expedition, but now it was edgy and seemed ready to bolt.
Merros could fully understand that. The smell of the Pra-Moresh was potent, made stronger here because the air was cleaner. Leagues away, closer to the Seven Forges, the air was thick with soot all the time, heavy with dust and ash. Here, closer to home, it was almost like his senses were coming back for the first time.
The hunters made quick work of their kills. While Merros watched and Wollis worked on calming his animal – a task he handled expertly – Tusk swept the massive sword clean with a heavy piece of his prey’s fur and slid it back into the sheath. Then he took a different blade, smaller but decidedly sharp and sturdy, and began cleaning the carcass. Within ten minutes he’d cut away a good portion of the meat from the Pra-Moresh. He called to two of his brethren who moved over and helped pack the meat into several cloth sacks. While they worked, the mounts they’d been riding stared at the dead beast and shifted from paw to paw. Not one of the creatures moved from where it stood.
The two women were just as fast as their male counterparts, and had cleaned a good amount of the meat away from the carcass in short order. When they were done, they stepped back and one of the women called out with a harsh, barking command. A moment later the great predatory animals they rode on pounced on the bodies. Not all of the Sa’ba Taalor rode the animals, just as not every person on the expedition had a horse. It simply wasn’t practical. Still there were a dozen of the beasts, and they tore hard meat and gristle away from the bodies and feasted on the entrails and several dubious looking organs their masters had set aside for them.
Tusk walked around the circle of feeding animals and held two more massive teeth out to show a few of his friends. He spoke in his own tongue, laughing, and Wollis, who had finally calmed his horse down, rode close to Merros. “What is he saying?”
“He’s just having fun. He’s being a hunter.” Merros pointed to the teeth. “He’s planning on adding those to his helmet. He’s just cracking wise because he can’t decide if he wants to merely add them or replace a couple of teeth that have broken in previous combats.”
“So he’s bragging?”
Merros shook his head. “No. He’s just having a good time. He may as well be a woman discussing what sort of fur to line her cloak with.”
“I’m thinking referring to him as a woman might be a mistake.”
The voice that responded came from Goriah. The blonde woman had crept closer while both of them were busy conversing. “No. I don’t think they care. Male, female. It’s all the same.”
“How so?”
She looked from one man to the other, her eyes drawing both of them. She was, as always, extremely distracting. “They have been learning from you. We have been learning from them. The only thing that matters seems to be how well they obey their gods. If you were to call Tusk a woman, he would probably think you were confused. He wouldn’t be insulted. He’d just possibly think you had been hit in the head too many times to think clearly.”
“Really?” Wollis’ voice was a skeptical.
“You wonder how that could be? Why he wouldn’t be offended?”
“Well, yes. No disrespect, Goriah, but most of the soldiers I’ve met would beat a man into the mud for calling him a woman.”
Goriah smiled. Even her teeth were perfect. “That’s because most of the soldiers you’ve dealt with would consider that an insult to their manhood and to their ability to fight.”
Wollis squinted at her. He was thinking it through. “Well, yes.”
She nodded her chin to the two women who were cleaning their blades and sliding them back into the sheaths on their bodies. Their cloaks were opened to the elements and the numerous straps that held knives, axes and even swords in place were revealed. Once again, Merros found himself watching the smooth play of muscles moving under their scarred skin. Once again, he found himself oddly drawn to their forms. Too damned long away from civilized women. He’d have to fix that and soon. “Answer me this, Wollis. Do either of those women strike you as the sort who would be considered too delicate to fight?”
Wollis shook his head. “Gods no. I don’t think I’d want to cross either of them.” His tone clearly revealed his admiration.
“Then why would a fighter be offended to be compared to them?”
“Your point is well made, Goriah.”
One of the women called out to Goriah and she in turn called back with a fast response. When she was done she looked at Wollis again. “We are apparently in for a treat.”
“How’s that?”
“Ehnole over there is going to make us a stew from the hearts, eyes and tongue of the Pra-Moresh.” The woman looked at Wollis with a certain humor. “Apparently it is a treat.”
“I doubt that.”
Goriah waved a dismissive hand and started toward the woman in question. “Should I tell her you wish to decline her generous offer? Keep in mind that if she takes offense she might decide you’ve insulted her honor.”
Wollis blanched.
Merros smiled. “I think we’ll both be delighted to try whatever dish she offers.” His second did not disagree.
They gathered together at the dining hall where Pathra Krous and Desh Krohan often had their conversations in private, joined by a dozen others who simply had to know what was happening.
The Emperor had numerous advisors, most of whom were not present. Some had other engagements, some had families to attend to, some were not invited because at that particular moment Pathra did not wish to see them. To the very last of them the newcomers stared at Drask Silver Hand with the sort of fascination normally reserved for a new and particularly unsettling looking bug. It either said a lot for him that he didn’t seem to care, or it spoke volumes about his ignorance of what was going on around him. Desh Krohan reached the same conclusion Merros had earlier: the stranger was not foolish enough not to notice that he was being observed, and carefully. He simply found nothing to be concerned over.
Among the people in the room was an exotic beauty from the far south of the Empire, whose flawless skin was darker by a few shades – in much the same way that Drask’s skin was grayer – and whose hair fell in a straight wave down past her shoulders. She had trouble taking her eyes off of Drask, and when she did, it was only to stare at Andover’s new hands. For his part, the young man was staring around the room with the same sort of fascination, save when even he found himself drawn back to his hands. The woman had come to the seat of the Empire to seek a solution to a growing problem with the Guntha. Once again the closest kingdom of any size was feeling the need to stretch their legs into the Empire’s territories, in this case a tropical zone called Roathes, the domain the young woman’s family ruled. Roathes was allegedly beautiful. Desh had not been there in a very long time and no longer remembered it clearly. What he did know, however, was that the girl was one of Marsfel the King of Roathes’ daughters, and that she would be staying in the area and making multiple requests for aid until the situation either grew bad enough to require action, calmed down on its own, or her presence offended Pathra. The reason so staggering a beauty had been sent along? To ensure that she did not quickly get on the Emperor’s nerves.
“Well, the Guntha are a persistent problem, Lanaie. We aren’t ignoring them, but we also have to make sure that the borders throughout the Empire hold against ou
r enemies.” That was Pathra, who was currently trying to explain why he wasn’t sending troops to help the girl’s father. He was talking to her chest as much as he was talking to her face. That was to be expected, as her assets were considerable. The advantage of being the Emperor was that no one would say a word to him about his boorish behavior. Except for Desh, of course, but he would wait until after the meal.
“How many troops do the Guntha employ against your father?” Desh had been about ask that very question. Drask beat him to it.
The dark eyes of the girl grew wider as Drask spoke to her. She looked at him with slightly parted lips and drank in his words, fascinated by him. His face still remained behind the veil he found so important. Tataya had seen him, of course. Well, she had felt his face so she understood what was going on behind that cloth. So too did Desh. What his associates knew soon became his knowledge as well.
“My father says the Guntha have gathered almost two thousand in preparation.”
Desh held his breath. That was the last thing Fellein needed at the present time.
“Does your father not have an army of his own?” Drask again.
“Well, of course, but we were hoping for additional forces.”
“How many soldiers does your father have?” Drask again. The girl listened to every word he said and answered quickly each time he spoke. When Pathra talked to her she seemed to take forever to get around to answering. Her father had not chosen wisely when it came to a good representative. She was too easily distracted.
“Our numbers are good, but we hope for additional assistance to end the assault before it can become substantial.”
Drask turned to the Emperor. “And do you plan to offer assistance, Your Majesty?” He had learned quickly the proper form for addressing the Emperor. Tataya was teaching him.
“Well. It’s something I have to consider, of course.”
“May I offer a solution, Your Majesty?” Drask stared hard, his face unreadable above the veil.
“Of course.” Pathra’s expression said he was curious about what the solution might be. So was Desh.
“I could send ten of my fellows to see to the situation. They would like the opportunity to explore Roathes, and to meet these Guntha face to face.”
Pathra Krous stared at Drask for several heartbeats, his face frozen at the edge of a smile. He managed to behave himself, but Desh knew him well enough to know that the Emperor was tempted to laugh.
“Ten men?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
A quick look. A question shot toward Desh with a single expression. They had known each other so long that they needed nothing else for the communication. Pathra asked What do you think?
And Desh responded with Why not see what Drask thinks ten men can do?
Pathra smiled and lowered his head in a small bow of concession. “I appreciate the offer, Drask. Why don’t you send your men?”
Lanaie frowned. She did so very fetchingly. “That is all the help you can offer?”
Pathra said, “Merely as a consultation, another group to offer an impartial consideration.”
And at the same time, without any hesitation, Drask answered, “You shall see, Princess, what ten of the Sa’ba Taalor can do.”
The look Pathra shot was both amused and shocked. He had the good graces to hide his face from the eyes of both strangers before he stared at Desh.
Desh gave a small wave of his hands in dismissal and hid it behind the act of reaching for his wine. This would be enlightening at the very least, and if the Sa’ba Taalor managed to make a miserable situation more manageable while simultaneously telling something about themselves, all the better.
Of course he’d have to make sure he knew what was going on down there. And he’d have to get the strangers there in one piece. The good news was he already knew how to handle that.
Tataya looked in his direction and he nodded. She knew the way he thought. That was a good thing. It made life much easier when it came to certain things.
The sun broke through the thinning cloud cover and Merros sighed. What a beautiful sight. He’d been granted a teasing glimpse of the sun when he was in the valley of the Seven Forges, but that had been through the perpetual haze that covered the entire region. When one considered the misery of the Blasted Lands in general, the fact that any place within the depths of the frozen hell they were leaving ever saw sunlight could almost be considered a miracle.
The ground was no longer frozen. Spring was coming to Fellein, though it was hard to tell this far north. The air was warmer, sweeter and had the first scent of green, fertile plants that he could remember in forever it seemed. Even in the valley the air had a taint of soot.
Wollis was involved in a serious discussion with Tusk about the benefits of marinating wild meats. For reasons Merros didn’t begin to understand, the two had struck a mutual respect for each other. He didn’t quite want to risk calling it a friendship.
Pella called his name, and he turned to the sound of her voice. Without the winds half-deafening him he realized again that even her voice had an air of sensuality to it. How the hell was that even possible? Too long without companionship, that was how. He tried not to think about it.
The wizard’s servant moved closer and walked with a woman who either had the name Swech or the name Soot Hair. Possibly both. He still hadn’t quite grasped all the nicknames versus titles versus actual names of the people they traveled with. The differences were once again instantly obvious. Swech was almost as tall as he was, and she dressed for easy function in her motions instead of for any semblance of fashion. In other words, she dressed like a man. She had longish hair that did, indeed, carry the same color as the ash from a campfire. Her hair was tied back at the present moment, and fell in a tail halfway down her back. She also had a body that was as delightfully feminine as he could recall, just in a very well-muscled way he wasn’t at all used to. Pella was far thinner, seemed more like a proper lady, but both of them were distracting.
The weather was warm enough that both had discarded their cloaks and were happy to wear shirts instead of thick layers of cloth. That didn’t help with the distraction at all, but he still decided to enjoy the show rather than be annoyed. Pella was wearing a long skirt of dark cloth that shimmered around her. Swech was wearing leather breeches that fit almost as well as her skin. Oh yes, she had a feminine shape to her.
She also sported one sword, two daggers and at least one axe that he could see. Judging by the way they were carried, she’d long since adjusted to their shape and weight against her. She was still wearing a damned veil, too. His desire to see what she looked like under that cloth cover was even more distracting than the very shapely curves her outfit revealed.
“What can I do for you, Pella?” He made himself speak to avoid looking like he was staring as much as he wanted to. He also looked away from both of the women and let his attention soften until he was aware of everything around him instead of focusing on any specific details.
“Desh has been in contact with me.”
“Of course he has.”
She ignored his tone. “He requires additional work from you.”
“I believe our contract is fulfilled within the next two days, barring unforeseen occurrences.” There was a rather large fortune waiting for him and he intended to get around to spending it. He also intended to spend at least a full day soaking in hot, scented waters.
“Yes.” She nodded and he looked at her face. Damn if she wasn’t stunning.
“Then what could he possibly require from me?”
“That you lead ten of the Sa’ba Taalor to the southern edge of the Empire, the better to examine the border between Fellein and Guntha. The Guntha seem to want another war.”
“And why would I be at all interested?” He was interested, of course. He hadn’t been to the southern part of the continent in a very long time, and he was curious about what the Guntha were up to since he and a few thousand others had helped repel
them in the past. That was how Wollis got his leg wrecked as he recalled. A spear hurled by a particularly angry Guntha had gone completely through his thigh, bone and meat alike. He had recovered but never completely.
“Double the money you have already earned.”
By all the gods, the man had gone mad. With that sort of money a man could buy himself a title and the castle to go with it.
“Yes, you could. But if you keep on Desh Krohan’s good side, he might well arrange for the title himself.” Pella’s voice was soft and amused.
Merros pulled back, not at all aware that he had been speaking aloud. A moment later he realized he hadn’t been.
“You need to not do that.” He made his voice hard.
“Do what?” Swech’s voice was naturally husky.
Merros chose to ignore the innocent question. “Fine, I’ll accept the commission, but I’ll need to go to the capital at any rate to finish this commission and draw the papers for the next. There’s also the matter of supplies and getting a fresh horse.”
“There’s no time for that. I was discussing the matter with Swech and she’s agreed to let you ride along with her.”
“Excuse me?” Was he blushing? Gods, he hoped not.
Swech struck him with a companionable cuff across the shoulder. “This horse of yours is slow. My Saa’thaa is faster and can easily carry two. If you are nice, I might even let you take the reins.” Oh yes, there was a bit of blushing going on now. He coughed into his hand in an effort to mask that fact.
Both of the women kept their quiet, but he suspected they exchanged an amused look while he wasn’t looking.
“So when do we leave then?”
“Immediately. Take what you need from your horse. Wollis will take over the leadership of the expedition.”
Seven Forges Page 11
