by Liam Reese
Turning to face the window he pointed out into the open, concentrating on fire flowing through his veins again. He felt heat this time. A rush of intense heat that flowed through his body, down his outstretched arm and out. He opened his eyes to see a small flame shooting from his finger. About a foot long and bright yellow it was not particularly hot but pride swelled in his chest.
Not bad for my second try. Not bad at all.
The attack came on the second day after the caves. Besmir’s small party had been headed for a well the Corbondrasi knew of. In awe of the vastness of Boranash, Besmir had almost forgotten the warning their guides had given.
“Cal Trin is thinking well is not too far,” Ru Tarn announced.
Besmir noticed the Corbondrasi had adapted to live in this environment quite well. Their feathers protected them from the harsh sun whereas he and Arteera had started to go a dark red wherever the sun found a little patch of uncovered skin. They also had rows of feathers around their eyes that they could fluff up as protection from the flying dust when the hot winds whipped across them. Those from Gazluth had to make do with strips of cloth across their eyes and mouth, making it all the more difficult to breathe.
Pausing to let the harshest of the midday sun pass overhead the small party had relished the opportunity to rest and virtually collapsed into the shade of a hastily raised cloth. The thick canvas snapped in the wind but kept the worst of the sun off them and the horses as the Corbondrasi, who seemed unaffected by any of the heat, tended their mounts.
Arteera looked fit to drop as she lay with her head on a rock. Never the most robust of women she had remained thin even when food had become plentiful and the relentless sun and heat was beginning to take its toll on her.
“Try and drink something, love,” Besmir said bringing a canteen to her lips.
She opened her eyes, peering out of the gauzy, white veil Ru Tarn had given her to keep the sun at bay. They fixed on Besmir, weakly and he could see how tired she was. He felt it himself but could not allow it to show.
His queen sipped at the warm water gratefully and she even managed a wan smile before closing her eyes again, her head slumping sideways.
“We will be reaching the river soon,” Ru Tarn said, seeing Besmir’s concern. “It will be being cooler and easier then.”
Besmir nodded as he made himself comfortable and fell almost instantly asleep. Someone shook him a few seconds later and he opened his eyes to see the sun had crossed the sky into early afternoon. He frowned before it dawned on him he had been asleep for a couple of hours rather than seconds.
He stretched and groaned as muscles complained, watching as several other members of his party did the same.
Mounted and on the road again they carried on trudging through the hot, cracked earth when a shout roused Besmir from the stupor he had fallen into. The Corbondrasi Mo Slir had raised the alarm as people appeared from out of the ground on either side of the rough road they had been on.
For an instant only Besmir thought they were some kind of demons or monsters crawling from the dead earth to attack. It took a few moments for his brain to register they were just people who had dug holes to ambush travelers from.
They stopped, the Corbondrasi calling to the bandits who were making demands. Besmir looked around at the faces of his little group. They were in no mood for any of this, Keluse, Herofic, Zaynorth, Norvasil and even his wife looked angry, ready for a fight. A savage grin split Besmir’s face as he saw Herofic heft his ax and he heeled his horse forwards to draw level with the Corbondrasi who were arguing with the leaders of the group.
“They are saying we must be giving them water and food,” Ru Tarn explained to Besmir. “Gold is as well being demanded.”
“Tell them I would not give them my urine if they were aflame,” Besmir said, staring straight at the leader whose eyes locked onto his own.
He saw the moment the words hit the bandit as his dark purple eyes widened in shock. Besmir dragged the bright sword that hung at his side and started forwards advancing on the leader.
He leaped back and brought his hand to his feathered mouth, issuing a high-pitched scream that Besmir took as the order to attack.
Within a pair of heartbeats chaos had overtaken them all. The bandits that had been buried in the dry earth retreated as mounted bandits approached on beasts Besmir had only ever seen in books.
Panther like in appearance, each was about the size of a horse with immense teeth and clawed feet that also had wide pads to spread their weight on the dry soil and sand. There were a range of different fur colors from a sandy yellow to a mottled peach and brown.
As the mounted bandits approached their pedestrian counterparts they reached down, linking arms with one each and hauled them up on the back of their mounts.
The horses in Besmir’s party started to show nerves as they caught scent of the large cats, pawing at the ground and tossing their heads as their riders fought to control them.
“We must be giving them things!” Ru Tarn cried. “If they are riding daasnu they can win!”
“You forget something,” Besmir called back. “Why they call me the Hunter King.”
His eyes appeared to go vacant as Besmir sent his mind hammering into the brain of the nearest daasnu. The large cat reared on its hind legs then fell to the ground, crushing both riders beneath its back. It rose and leaped at a second beast, hammering into the men riding it as they looked on in shock.
Arrows filled the air as the White Blades and Keluse fired. Besmir used the massive cat to slash and bite at the bandits, leaping from daasnu to daasnu as he forced them to throw their riders. When all their attackers were on foot and their mounts had run off into the desert, Besmir rode them down, slashing at them as they tried in vain to defend themselves. Herofic, the Corbondrasi and his White Blades joined the skirmish and before long the sand had been painted with blood.
A scream cut the air behind him and Besmir wheeled his horse to see a dark clad figure had dragged Arteera from her horse. He held her by the neck, a blade to her as he shouted something.
“Stop this or the queen dies!” he called in Gazluthian.
“Who are you?” Besmir demanded.
“Nobody you would know, King Besmir,” the man spat. “Let my friends go or your queen dies,” he added, jerking Arteera hard.
She screamed as the blade grazed her skin and Besmir held his hand up. Zaynorth looked at the man who held Arteera, steering his horse closer.
“Far enough old man,” the bandit said.
“Of course,” Zaynorth said politely. “However, you have forgotten one thing.”
“Really?” the bandit asked “What?”
“You can no longer breathe,” Zaynorth said.
The Gazluthian’s eyes widened in terror and he released Arteera, dropping his blade as he clawed at his own throat. Besmir watched as Zaynorth stared at him, pouring the illusion into his mind that he could not breathe. So powerful was the old mage, so complete his illusion, that the bandit started to convulse as he collapsed to the sand still unable to take in breath. Not only Besmir’s party but the few remaining bandits stopped to watch him slowly die. His lips turned blue as he pleaded with his eyes but Zaynorth continued to stare at him, his concentration diamond hard as he forced the man to suffocate himself to death.
“You should not have threatened my queen,” Zaynorth said as he died.
Six of the remaining bandits threw their weapons away, kneeling in the dust when they saw what Zaynorth could do.
“What should we be doing with them?” Ru Tarn asked Besmir later.
“That’s a Corbondrasi matter,” he said. “Why don’t you think of something?”
Besmir watched as she made her way to talk to her countrymen.
“Is she putting on weight?” he asked no one in particular.
Herofic stared at him with a squint.
“What?” he asked the old warrior.
Ru Tarn returned a few minutes later as the three other Corbondrasi
dragged the bandits off to execute them in the desert.
“They would be using up water we are not having for them,” she said in a disturbed voice. “It being kinder than letting Boranash kill them.”
She turned and walked off, making her way over to Herofic and leaning into his embrace as the screams began.
“Wait!” Besmir said, concentrating.
As the final scream was cut off by a horrible gurgle, one of the daasnu appeared from behind a pile of dusty stones and dirt. It plodded across to where Besmir stood and halted for him to take the reins. The great beast stood just taller than the man himself and he looked at it with awe. Its feet were huge, two toed, padded things each toe the same size as Besmir’s hand if he spread his fingers. Besmir ran his hand down the creature’s flank, watching its fur spring back and muscles twitch beneath his touch. It turned its massive leonine head in curiosity, staring at Besmir as he examined it.
Besmir sent his thoughts out into the desert several more times, seeking out the other daasnu and bringing them back. In all, he brought four of the large cats back, each laden with the water and supplies its rider had owned.
The Corbondrasi who returned with grim expressions stared at the animals in surprise, twittering at each other in their own language as they stared at the daasnu.
“They are never seeing daasnu acting like this,” Ru Tarn said in a subdued voice. “Daasnu are belonging to only one person normally.”
“I’ve always had an affinity with animals,” Besmir said.
He turned away from the gruesome scene as members of the White Blades checked each of the bandits, plunging blades into those who showed any signs of life. Ru Tarn started to retch as the stench of drying blood and feces reached them. Herofic followed the ambassador, rubbing her back gently as she leaned her hands on her knees.
Cal Trin had a nasty cut on his forearm that his brother was tending to. Besmir noticed Corbondrasi blood was a great deal darker than his own, something he had not noticed in the middle of battle. Col Trin plucked at the feathers lining the wound, muttering as his brother hissed. Once the edges of his cut had been plucked, Col Trin washed the injury before binding it tightly. Even through his layer of thick plumage Cal Trin looked pale.
“Maybe we should let him rest,” Besmir suggested.
“It is being too exposed here,” Ru Tarn said, trying to keep her gaze clear of the dead. “We are having to carry on.”
Besmir nodded and turned his attention to the daasnu beside him. The large cat had planted its hind quarters on the hot sand and was busy licking one paw with its immense tongue.
“What do you think the chances are of me riding this thing?” he asked.
Ru Tarn chatted with the three Corbondrasi before turning back to Besmir, her lavender eyes piercing in the sun.
“Brothers are not ever seeing daasnu like this,” she said. “Daasnu usually attacking anyone who is not owner,” she shrugged. “King Besmir maybe having better luckiness.”
The four Corbondrasi watched in fascination to see if the large creature would turn on Besmir, ripping him limb from limb. He could see the surprise in their oddly colored eyes when he jumped up into the saddle on its back without incident.
Besmir himself did not bother to enter the creature’s mind again as he needed the animal to respond to him physically rather than mentally. Col Trin muttered something to his brother, the pair speaking in low tones as they watched the Gazluthian king.
“Is it being possible for them to ride a daasnu they are wondering?” Ru Tarn asked.
Besmir shrugged and the two Corbondrasi brothers approached an animal each, gingerly introducing themselves to the animal before leaping into the saddles. Each daasnu simply looked back at the man astride them with curiosity in their small eyes, shifting their weight slightly as they stood ready. Besmir could tell the brothers were impressed and happy with their new mounts and nodded to both men when they thanked him in awkward Gazluthian.
Chapter Ten
Confusion addled Besmir’s mind when he woke beside a cool stream, its pristine water flowing over rocks and crystals that colored the water to make it look like a rainbow flowed across the land. He felt clean and warm but none of the oppressive heat that had been baking him in Boranash. His clothing was soft and fitted as if it had been tailored to his body, the ever present feeling of sand and grit in every crevice of his being was gone and even his skin felt baby-smooth when he moved.
His eyes roved over the immense, lush, green landscape, from the tree he had woken beneath to the rolling hills in the distance, the world teemed with life. Animals that ought to have been predator and prey moved past each other with what looked to be a primitive form of courtesy as Besmir looked on in amazement. A Crallcat that would normally pounce upon virtually anything that moved looked to give way to a deer that happily plodded towards its teeth and fangs. Both creatures carried on their way unharmed and innocent as Besmir gaped.
Overhead flocks of brightly-colored birds shared the skies and abundant trees with their brown and black cousins. Again Besmir watched as eagles and hawks ignored the smaller birds that might normally make an easy meal.
Besmir stood feeling the grass beneath his bare feet as soft as down, turning to stare at the man who approached him with a mixture of pain and joy in his heart.
He was simply dressed in tunic and loose trousers, still as tall and rangy as Besmir recalled. His black hair fell about his shoulders perfectly, shining blue in the warm sunlight. Deer and squirrel paused to nuzzle his hand as he walked towards Besmir with a serene expression on his face and the two men embraced, Besmir in shock that this man could be here after ten years in the grave.
“Ranyor,” Besmir said in a hoarse voice. “What has happened to me?”
“Don’t worry, my King,” Ranyor said playfully, “you aren’t dead. How is Keluse?”
Besmir detected the hint of sadness in Ranyor’s voice. His beatific attitude slipping minutely as his features changed.
“She’s well,” Besmir said. “Still misses you, though,” he added, “and Ranyeen is incredible...”
Besmir trailed off as he saw the expression of utter agony that crossed his friend’s face. Ranyor had died before his daughter had entered the world and had never met the girl Besmir knew well.
“I’m sorry,” Besmir said. “For everything.”
Guilt hit the king hard as he was transported back to the night he had let Ranyor scout the city of Morantine alone and been killed by Tiernon or his demonic minions as a result.
“You are not to blame, Besmir,” Ranyor said. “I chose my own fate that night...although I have regretted it since. Has Keluse...found another?” he asked in a halting voice.
“No,” Besmir said. “She’s completely devoted to raising Ranyeen. There will never be another in her eyes.”
Ranyor nodded, still appearing pained and Besmir wondered if this afterlife was as perfect and heavenly as it appeared to be. Ranyor’s head turned as if he could hear a voice Besmir could not and he nodded again.
“Come,” he said abruptly, “there is someone you must meet.”
Besmir struggled to keep up with his tall friend as the man strode through the paradise that seemed to stretch off infinitely. He watched as animals he had never laid eyes on wandered past him. Thick skinned creatures, red and dark blue, some with horns and some with wings, others with many more legs than Besmir had ever seen on an animal. Patterns and colors as diverse as fall leaves met his eyes changing his perception of himself to that of an ant trying to comprehend a building.
Besmir had considered himself to be a fairly important piece of the world. He had striven to change the lives of the people of Gazluth for the better. At first, by slaying Tiernon and accepting the position of king, then in his dealings as their king. Seeing the immensity, the diversity, of creatures that had lived before him was humbling, making Besmir see he was an almost infinitesimally small speck in an immense picture.
Ranyor led him
through areas where people gathered to watch him pass, some raising their hands in a brief wave as others looked on with either disinterest or envy. A woman appeared from behind a tree, her black hair and pale skin proclaiming her Gazluthian heritage immediately, and approached Besmir. She looked him over critically as he stared back into eyes that he had seen in his own reflection almost every day, dark brown and large.
“M-mother?” Besmir asked uncertainly.
Rhianne grabbed her son in a tight hug, squeezing him for the first time in thirty five years.
“Oh, my boy,” she sobbed in a hoarse voice. “My little Besmir.”
The Hunter-King of Gazluth leaned into the mother he had never known in life and cried. Deep, wrenching sobs ripped from inside him as feelings he had buried deep inside him exploded.
“She’s taken my son!” he bawled. “Porantillia’s got my boy!”
“I know, love,” Rhianne said gently, patting him on the back. “I know.”
Besmir remained in the arms of his mother for as long as he could until Ranyor coughed politely and said they should continue.
“Why?” Besmir demanded. “Who’s so important that I have to see them now?”
“You will see when we get there,” Ranyor said cryptically.
“Go on, my love,” Rhianne said gently. “We will be united one day.”
“I met my father!” Besmir called as he allowed himself to be led from the spirit of his mother.
Her face screwed up into a mask of pain and tears and she turned, sprinting into the trees, away from his sight.
“What did I say?” Besmir asked.
“It’s beautiful here,” Ranyor said as he led Besmir through woods filled with people and animals, “and for many it is the perfect afterlife. I have freedom to do almost anything my heart desires,” he added. “Unfortunately, what my heart desires is Keluse and that is impossible. I can’t see her, speak to her, know anything about her. For your mother, it’s the same. Yet I know one day Keluse will come to me...from what I recall, your father’s spirit resides in Hell, Besmir. She has no hope of seeing him again. Ever.”
