Atar laughed aloud. Stop teasing, Bulliwuf. I can smell his piss. You made him wet his pants.
Atar sighed. He could hear Sugreeva’s thin voice composing.
“Um, Bravely he doth go forth smooshing oh dear, smooshing doesn’t go does it? How about, crushing? That sounds more fierce, don’t you think?”
The hours passed and the sun reached its zenith. Sugreeva had finished his ballad by this time and was roaring out the words.
Sugreeva the mighty, he is very tidy
With spirits high, and danger near
Sugreeva rides without a fear
Bravely, bravely, charging forth today
Bravely, bravely he shows his men the way
Across the fields, across the lands, to peril still unknown
He rides his mighty stallion to
He stopped. “What rhymes with unknown? Hmm, bone, clone, sloan.”
Atar laughed aloud. A figure in the distance rose up over a hill. It stopped and heads turned to look. Atar shaded his eyes. The figure started moving again toward them. It stopped again and directed his horse in an aimless, wide circle.
“What the hell?” General Tiridates said.
Speaker Mage, tell them we shall stop for lunch, Atar said.
“Thank God!” Atar heard Sugreeva say. “I was beginning to think we’d ride forever.”
Both sets of soldiers watched the approaching figure as they set up lunch. Sugreeva’s soldiers still kept to themselves, trying to preserve some dignity. The effect was spoiled when Sugreeva shamelessly sauntered over to Atar’s cook fire.
“Tell him that we shall camp here for the night,” Sugreeva said to Heslin.
Heslin gaped.
Atar shook his head. Sugreeva walked back to his soldiers and ordered one of them to set up his tent. The soldier played deaf. Atar could hear him screaming at the poor man.
Meals were cooking, and Atar bathed in the stream. As he finished, he looked up to see Sugreeva on the bank, staring. When he saw that he’d been observed, he began to wash his hands and wiped them on a silk handkerchief. Atar dressed quickly, and Sugreeva began to chatter to him.
As the soldiers in both camps quaffed their meal, Ezad the Insane roamed into camp. He stared blankly at Atar. A streamer of saliva hung from his lower lip. Atar smiled and came over to him. Ezad tossed his head and dismounted. He accepted the meal Atar offered him. Atar was genuinely glad to see him. He had proved enormously useful before, despite his apparent insanity. Atar had a feeling as he looked at Ezad, that Zohak had nothing to do with his coming. After a time, the soldiers gathered their things.
As Atar mounted Ishria, the tilting, wobbly structure Sugreeva’s men had erected fell on top of him. He pulled the canvas off his head as he heard them riding away.
“Hey!” Sugreeva wailed. “I said we are going to stay here.”
Before long, they heard Sugreeva singing behind them again. Atar passed the hours by learning some of the Persian language from Heslin. By the time they camped that night, the soldiers had abandoned the pretense of separate camps. General Tiridates, who was in command of Sugreeva’s men, was seated next to his comrade, General Monases. Ezad the Insane burbled manically into this cup of stew, murmuring to himself. The fire burned brightly on the faces of the men.
“I am so glad you have decided to join me.” Sugreeva said, clueless. “Do not fear. You will all flourish under my benevolent command. Of course, I can be as hard as iron when I need to be, so do not cross me.”
Atar stared at him blankly, and looked at Heslin.
Um…he is under the impression that you have…uh that is to say he says he is leading…commanding all of us, Heslin said.
Atar stared at him and then threw his head back and roared with laughter. His men chuckled too. Sugreeva tittered as well, and that made everyone laugh even harder.
Chapter Two
When the sun set a few days later, Sugreeva, Atar, and the forty men were within sight of the settlement near the Dragon Caves. The buildings were clustered together as if they huddled in fear of the mountains that rose up to meet the sky. Atar watched the small figures in the distance see them and scurry off. Sugreeva was chattering happily next to him. Heslin had fallen back, and Captains Monases and Tiridates had taken his place by Atar’s side. A crowd had gathered by the time they reached the settlement. They squealed and clutched at each other when they saw Bulliwuf. Atar saw them staring at him as well. He was still not used to this kind of reception.
Atar looked down at the excited, chattering faces. The people stood well back from their path. He could hear a blacksmith somewhere clanging on his anvil. The sharp sound of iron on iron carried over the noise of the people. Atar caught glimpses of little gardens in front of the modest houses, but for the most part, all he could see was the crowd. The dusty main street was lined with shops. It did not take them long to find the inn. It was a solid two-story structure with a steeply peaked roof.
A man rushed out of the building clutching a damp towel. “I’m so sorry. I am afraid my establishment is too small to accommodate such a large group.”
Atar peered at the man, slowly translating his meaning. Another man bustled to the front and cleared his throat. “Welcome to our humble town! I am the mayor here. Are you here to fight the dragon?” the mayor asked, nervously tweaking his mustaches.
Sugreeva cleared his throat, but General Monases said hurriedly, “Yes, my good man. Do you know of a place we can stay for the night? We can camp in the town square, if nothing else is available.”
Sugreeva squealed in protest, but the mayor said, “No! No! I wouldn’t hear of it. We shall give you quarter. Come, come!” It was then that Atar noticed him regarding Bulliwuf. The man then glanced up to take in Atar. A look of stark terror cut across his face. He turned and hurried toward his house.
The soldiers dispersed among the people and the command group followed the mayor. Atar had to lead Ishria into the stable himself. When he walked out of the barn, he hesitated before entering the house, reluctant as ever to throw himself into a confined area. He contemplated taking a position out on the wooden steps, but the mayor appeared in the doorway wearing a strained smile. Atar slowly walked into the house with Bulliwuf at his heels, but he winced when he saw the door slammed shut in Bulliwuf’s face.
Atar passed a small table with a vase filled with flowers. He found himself seated at the dining table with the others. A soft knock sounded and the door opened to reveal Bulliwuf in his human form. He was so beautiful that both men and women gasped.
“Where did you come from? I thought you went back to town. Are you here to escort me? Did my mother send you?”
Bulliwuf smiled at Sugreeva’s torrent of questions, but said nothing. With an imperious nod of his head, he indicated that he would sit near Atar. The Speaker Mage scrambled away to another chair.
The mayor shivered at the sight of Bulliwuf, but his wife sashayed over to fuss over him. The table was laden with food. Monases, Tiridates, Heslin, and Ezad were seated to Atar’s right. The wife whispered into Bulliwuf’s ear and he answered softly. Atar was jealous when he saw Bulliwuf’s fingers gently and subtly graze the woman’s arm. She went back into the kitchen part of the house and returned with a large roast that was barely cooked. This she placed in front of Bulliwuf. He ate with the dignity of a king, but with the voracious appetite of a werewolf.
Atar rolled his eyes. He still did not know how Bulliwuf did it. Sugreeva was chattering in his highborn Persian accent. Atar did not focus on his words. He stared hungrily at the platters of food.
“A real quest!” the mayor’s youngest son breathed. His father gave him a quelling look.
“Why yes, as the Prince of Persia, that is what I do,” Sugreeva said, preening under the admiration. “My lieutenant here, Atar, will be assisting me,” Sugreeva said. General Monases choked on his wine.
“Well, yes, yes, we are so glad you came. It’s been a real trouble governing the people with that menace in th
e mountains. I tell you, it’s the last thing we needed, what with the drought and all. It reawakens ancient superstitions, if you know what I mean. Now, mind you, I’m not sure what’s up there. You know how people will spin yarns, but something is definitely there.”
As the man droned on, Atar noticed the eyes of the mayor’s eldest daughter rest for a moment on the handsome prince Bulliwuf and then they returned to watching him. He smiled. Plates were being passed around. When Atar was served, he attacked the meal with savage glee. He looked up to see the mayor’s wife smile and blush as he heaped on seconds, then thirds.
Atar noticed that they all pretended not to hear Ezad’s insistent whine.
“So…so…you’re the Firestarter?” the youngest son asked Atar.
Atar looked up and after a moment, he nodded. When the dessert was served, Atar slipped unobtrusively outside. Or rather, he would have slipped out unobtrusively if he hadn’t tripped on a tea table and sent it clattering to the floor. He hastily righted it as he felt his face turn red. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw that everyone was listening raptly to Sugreeva.
“He was about seven feet tall, but you see, being the prince, I was able to defeat him and his entire company of men. I was only fifteen years old at the time, and the court was truly impressed,” Sugreeva was saying.
Atar snatched the vase up from the floor and shoved the flowers back into it. Atar studied it for a second, trying to figure out what was wrong with the way it looked, and then he slipped out into the night. Bulliwuf noticed and followed.
Atar lowered himself onto the wooden steps and looked out over the town. Lightning bugs zipped through the air, pausing now and then.
“I see,” Bulliwuf sighed. “You plan to sleep outside.”
Atar was so full and so satisfied. He grunted.
“Although the bed of one of those fine women would be most warm, I will sleep here with you.” Bulliwuf instantly transformed and followed Atar to the barn. They snuggled together, Atar with his arm around Bulliwuf, as they had slept since he was a child. Had it not been for the great heat that emanated from the wolf, Atar would have frozen to death long ago. The Paralatae tribe people never provided him with anything but the bare minimum, such as discarded clothing, but he never had a tent.
As Atar drifted into sleep, his last thought was of Zohak. Where was he now?
The two bodies lay cooling in the deepening dusk as the hoof beats of a distant rider faded away. Their blood trickled into the thirsty ground, black in the fading light. One of the horses came over and nuzzled his master, confused. The bodies wore the uniform of the Persian guard. The gleaming swords they carried were half out of their scabbards. Below the forehead, their blood-flecked faces were set in the rictus of death.
Above their foreheads, the dying light gleamed on their open, empty skulls. The brains had been scooped out cleanly.
As they rode out of the town the following dawn, the people came out into the streets to wish them good luck. Sugreeva had taken the lead. He bounced at the head of the band as if he were marching in a grand triumphal procession. His nose was thrust high into the air. In a practiced, almost mechanical gesture, he waved to the watchers.
General Monases and Tiridates glanced at each other and then at Atar, who saw the scorn in their eyes. Poor Sugreeva. Nobody likes him. Atar was beginning to enjoy Sugreeva’s antics, but there were things to consider. He bent his head as he became engrossed in thought. He was troubled. He scarcely noticed they had left the town behind them.
* * * *
Kava the Blacksmith held his daughter high on his shoulders to watch the Firestarter and the soldiers go. She waved her small sword, slicing the air and howling. One of Kava’s wives frowned at the girl’s indecorous behavior.
“Really, Kava, make her stop at once!” the girl’s mother insisted. “She should act in a manner suitable for a girl of marriageable age.”
Kava thought his little girl certainly didn’t feel like she was ready for marriage, perched on his shoulders. She weighed so little.
“Nonsense!” Kava said, turning to smile at his third wife. He smoothed the girl’s dark curls with his hand. “She’s too young. Besides, her Papa would never spoil her fun. Would you like to go to town, Lesa?” Kava inquired, setting the girl on her feet.
The girl’s eyes lit, “Oh yes, Papa that would be wonderful!” Lesa squealed. She grabbed his beard and kissed him.
“Now, now Lesa!” the girl’s mother scolded, “How many times have I told you not to pull on your father’s beard?”
“It’s ok, love. She meant no harm,” Kava said, picking her up again.
“You’re entirely too indulgent with the girl. Why, she will marry next year. She is so spoiled that she will never make a good wife.”
“Nonsense!” He roared.
Lesa cocked her head and stared up at her mother. “Papa says I don’t have to marry unless I want to, and I don’t. I won’t leave home. I hate that man, Shogan! Papa says I’m too small to marry. I didn’t grow like the other girls, so I don’t have to, right Papa?”
Kava’s wife gasped. “You see what you have done, Husband!”
He ignored the comment. “Tell the three boys to have the fires ready by noon, and make sure Mandras, Rupinder, and Jamshir complete their lessons.”
Kava, with Lesa in his arms, turned to town. He never made Lesa walk anywhere if she didn’t want to. She was his baby, no matter what her age. Something had gone wrong with her after she suffered from a fever when she was three. She grew slowly and her legs were bowed. Her mind was rather weak and childlike. Kava knew she would never marry. Childbirth would kill a small woman like the one she was turning out to be. But he thanked the gods for every day she lived and that he was always there to protect her. She was his only daughter out of eight children and the apple of his eye. Although Kava was kind to all his children, he indulged his Lesa lavishly, much to her mother’s dismay.
“Let’s go to the sweet shop and then to the glass store!” Lesa said, squeezing his neck.
“Of course! What are papas for?” Kava asked.
They moved down the main street together.
* * * *
The land became rockier as Atar and the soldiers progressed.
“This is really boring,” Sugreeva said irritably from Atar’s side.
In the distance, they saw a herd of sheep. “General Atar,” Tiridates said, riding up to him. “I think we should leave the horses here with the shepherd. I don’t recommend risking their legs on such treacherous terrain.”
“No, no. You expect us to walk or something? Oh my God!” Sugreeva bristled and waved his delicate hands. His curls were trembling and his face was pale.
Atar nodded at General Tiridates, reflecting briefly on how odd it was that his captors treated him so deferentially. They proceeded on foot, Sugreeva falling far behind. Atar looked back to see him seated on a flat rock, sipping wine from his flask.
Atar began to sweat. He felt Bulliwuf reach out mentally to comfort him. It didn’t do much good. They headed west, climbing ever steeper into the mountains. Atar felt his fear double in intensity. They all seemed to share the feeling of terror. Doom seemed to float oppressively on the air. They knelt down and crawled forward as they neared the cave. They heard the breathing from some distance. Atar wiped the sweat from his brow and gripped his mace more tightly. Inch by inch, Atar crept forward. He saw the dark maw of the cave. A cold shudder gripped him. He was relieved by the presence of Bulliwuf and the forty soldiers. Atar turned his head to whisper to General Tiridates, but found that he was gone. He turned all the way around, still lying down, and saw the empty rocks behind him. They had deserted him. The horrible breathing issued evenly from the mouth of the cave.
“Bulliwuf, why didn’t you tell me they were running off?”
“Atar, it is something that they are not a part of,” Bulliwuf said.
Atar lay there, paralyzed with fear. Should he go forward and die by the dragon, or
creep back and die in Persia? He inched forward, dislodging a stone. It tumbled down the rocky, steep incline. The clatter sounded hideously loud in the still air. Atar heard the even breathing of the dragon end in a snort. He felt the blood drain from his face. He lay paralyzed, hoping to hear the dragon settle back down.
He felt his heart stop for an instant then pound triple time as an enormous snout emerged from the cave. Two glittering eyes stared malevolently at him. Atar felt the low, menacing rumble vibrate the ground beneath him.
They looked at each other, and then they heard the unmistakable sound of someone approaching. Zohak was down near the cave. He strode forth confidently. He fairly thrummed with power and arrogance. His walk was the haughty strut of a powerful king. His wide shoulders accented his narrow hips. He did not crawl toward the dragon’s cave. He strutted forth, to Atar’s amazement. The snakes on his shoulders were curled out of sight.
The huge head continued to emerge out of the cave, followed by a scaly body. The dragon had two curled horns on its head, much like a ram. Its snake-like eyes were set deep into sockets that seemed to be extensions of its horns. The nose rose up out of its face and was covered by hard plate-like scales, which shone a brilliant iridescent green. When it turned its head slightly, they took on a yellow cast. Its forked tongue jutted out from a hard, beak-like mouth lined with sharp teeth in jagged rows. The top set of teeth was doubled. Large leathery wings were folded on its back. It extended them slightly as it walked, but it looked as though they were vestigial, because they didn’t seem large enough to fly such a heavy body. They did, however, have a large claw at the end of each mid-wing, just where they folded. It walked on its two back feet, but the front feet waved menacingly. The ground shook when it lifted its tail and slammed it against the earth.
Zohak’s erect form strode toward the dragon. The dragon roared and lunged, his enormous body shooting at him with reptilian speed. The dragon’s jaws were wide at the arrogant little creature before it. Zohak watched the beast coming at him.
K B Forrest - [Fire Chronicles 04] Page 2
