Shemp snorted, incredulous. “You’ll have her do it? Or do you mean, simply request her to do it?”
Uriost took another deep breath and let her paws rake back over her wolfen ears and headfur. She sat down on the grass opposite Aruto’s surviving soldiers. “Keep strong, mammals. We have a duty to our Zuut, and we cannot let today’s losses hold us down from the real threat to these lands. The heretic is still at large, with the Crystal of the Wind in his possession.”
“Right now, that’s not our concern.” Yarmouth looked deep into the fire. “Where’s Rudie, anyway? Why is he so late?”
Shemp sighed. “Imagine his rage once he realizes we’ve lost the Crystal…”
Yarmouth’s already sullen expression drooped further. “Oh, Goddess. He’ll have our gullets slit.”
“Nor would I blame him,” said Uriost. “Your actions today were a complete disgrace to Twigleaf Company. Your lives spared by the quick end that would have been Nimbus, only to face the Zuut as participants of treason? Gulp down your poison and face your fate with pride.”
“Oh, sod off,” said Shemp behind a sneer.
“I will not. By my paw, the honour of Twigleaf won’t be tarnished,” she promised them. “The heretic’s attack was unaccounted for. This is merely a setback—”
“By the Zuut, she never quits!”
“Just – just go and breathe your militant poetics down somebody else’s collar plate. We’ve had enough, and wish only to be drunk.”
“—Now that we know he is on Galheist, where else will he go?” she demanded. This caused the two soldiers to keep their peace. “Unless he wears the skin of another mammal, there isn’t any other way the heretic can leave the coast undetected!”
“Well – he could,” said Yarmouth, darkly.
Shemp blinked.
Uriost furrowed her brow.
Yarmouth took a deep swig from the flask. His lupine eyes never left Uriost’s perplexed stare. “Theoretically, I mean.”
“You’re suggesting he could do that?” Uriost asked.
“Yes. He could.” He pointed the flask at her. “With you.”
“…Me?!”
Shemp’s feline ears perked, as did his shoulders. Booze-addled eyes cleared, if only a little bit, as drunken brain-gears began to crank.
“Your ties to the heretic before this whole mess are no secret to anyone,” said Yarmouth.
“He was yer mentor, weren’t he?” Shemp asked.
Yarmouth continued, “How coincidental it was today that it was he who met us on the path on our way back from the Stone Zephyr? How coincidental that it was he who knew where to go, where to find you, of all mammals—”
“Hold your wicked tongues.” Uriost flared. “How dare you suggest – Since your thick memories fail to recall, I instructed you not to hand the Crystal over to him!”
“He let you live,” said Shemp.
“As he did, you!” Uriost roared.
“Still, it don’t add up,” said Yarmouth. He rose from the grass and reached for shackles at his hip. “Maybe it were a canine thing? Wotsit, with Alliance’s ranks filled to the brim with ‘em these days … Never trusted a canine to spit on ‘em. Not even Barnard. Oi, then. Maybe Barnard and Axel was in on it, too, the damn hounds. You think? Maybe a plot’s about.”
“Makes sense to me,” muttered Shemp darkly.
Uriost rose, also. “Soldier…”
“Maybe Captain Hobbs should decide the cause of today’s cost, canine.” Yarmouth declared. He advanced on Uriost before she could even reach for her sword hilt. She bowled a steel shoulder plate squarely into him – but in a flash, Shemp was to action, and brought Uriost’s wrists behind her. She used the leverage to hoist her legs up and kick Yarmouth square in the ribs when he drew to arrest her. As she came down, she wheeled her upper body forward and threw Shemp overhead, where he landed head-first into the grass.
By the time they both regained themselves and started a second advance, Uriost’s broadsword, Kortho, was drawn.
“What are you going to do with that, Uriost?” Yarmouth asked. “Tickle us? Ye sickly dog scum shoulda stayed in Zeeph – where ye belong.”
Dog. A derogatory term, once used to oppress the canines after the fall of the Empire. These days, utterance of the word was considered a great offense to those who had been exiled to the Zeephite territories. But not even the Zuut’s globally-encompassing peace treaty could stop racist wheda from uttering the word every chance they got. Pure rage flowed through Uriost’s veins. Her lips peeled back to reveal a trembling snarl.
Yarmouth and Shemp flew at her on unstable hind legs. Uriost flashed between them with swift wolfen grace. Kortho brandished a single arc, and in an instant, both soldiers fell to the grass and didn’t get back up again.
Uriost took in a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Lowered Kortho’s stained edge to the tips of her footpads. Let the anger within her subside.
She exhaled.
“You fools … You Goddess-damned fools…”
37. A Gift from the Zuut
The stifling heat around Regina’s face had become unbearable. Sweat stung her eyes, and she could barely see the path before her, through the narrow eye slits of the visor loose around her skunken features. But the nauseating smell of dead raccoon was almost gone from her armour now. For that, she was thankful.
In the distant evening horizon, she could barely make out Keeto Town’s serpentstone walls rising into view. As they neared, the heretic tightened his grasp on the reins of Regina's pony as he led them along the forest path. Her wrists were tied to the saddle horn, covered by a blanket from the temple’s sacristy.
“Yelp for help and you'll regret it,” the heretic murmured to her.
She glared at his backside. There was no need to call for help – there was a sheathed knife hanging from her belt. It had come with the armour, and Regina had been aware of it the whole ride. For some reason, the heretic didn’t confiscate it when he fitted her with Farnham’s armour, back at the temple, and she knew wiser than to mention its existence. It was clear to her that the heretic was skilled and overconfident.
Maybe that’s why he’d left the knife alone.
Maybe he thought such a timid little skunk couldn’t be a threat.
Maybe he was right. But all the same, it didn’t make sense that a criminal would trust his hostage enough to not stab him in the back. His mistake. Regina craved for the knife. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Obsessed. She prayed for the moment that the heretic would let his guard down so that she could chew through her bonds and—
“To kill is to kill a part of your soul. It corrupts you, makes your heart black and impure.… If you fight, you must only ever fight in self defence – and even then, do so without the intent to end life.”
Astral’s words, from long ago, rang in her memories.
“To end life is to tarnish a part of your very self. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered. I am no match for him. But if I can free myself – I will not hesitate to defend myself.
“Hold – what is your business in Keeto Town?” asked one of two hounds that guarded Keeto Town’s gates. He drew towards the riders while his counterpart waited, nestled against the wall like he were on the verge of snoozing.
Regina's attention went to the saddlebag on the other pony. She could feel the weight of the Crystal hidden within. Inaudible whispers filled her helm-covered ears. With the whispers came visions – single images that flashed in her memory: Marble altar. Dull luminescence. The Crystal of the Wind.
…Regina Lepue…
Regina swallowed hard. What do you want of me…?
The heretic flipped back the navy cape about his steel shoulders and passed along two folded slips of paper to the gateshound who stopped them. The guard withdrew a pair of loose-armed spectacles from his hip pouch and took the slips over to the nearest torch, to inspect in proper light.
“Those are some mighty scrapes you got there, soldiers
.” The lazier hound nodded at the dents and deep scars in the armour Regina and the heretic wore.
Regina shook her head, resurfacing the situation at hand. She regarded the long crack in her chest plate, where the heretic had thrust Nimbus straight through the raccoon who had worn it before. She shivered.
“We were ambushed by bandits on our way here,” said the heretic. “We taught them, didn’t we, Farnham?”
“Huh?” Regina blinked. “Oh … yes…”
The spectacled hound returned the slips into the heretic’s care. “Ah – Twigleaf Company. Good evening to you, General Barnard!”
“Two others from your platoon rode through earlier,” said the passive gateshound while he cranked the lever to lift the barrier into Keeto. “They never mentioned anything about an ambush, though.”
“We were separated during an earlier mission,” said the heretic. “I’m relieved they arrived in timely fashion. They’ll be waiting for us at the outpost, I imagine.”
“Ride on in, soldiers. Alert Captain Hobbs of your report.”
“Zuut be praised.” The heretic bowed his head respectfully to the gateshounds as he and Regina passed through. The false gesture made Regina’s stomach burn, but she gave an obedient nod and muttered “Zuut,” when she met the empty, dominant stare of the passive hound’s horned, metal face.
Their ponies echoed hollow clacks against wet cobblestone. Arks Road was dark, empty of commerce. The venders had gone home and those they attracted had returned to the trails of the Altusian Moors. Regina had never seen Keeto so ghostly. The stillness was unsettling, and for a moment, she wondered if the city was abandoned.
“How did they even let us through?” Regina asked. When the heretic didn’t answer, she pressed further. “We’re a fox and skunk – the two soldiers you … you dealt with, they were a raccoon and a canine.”
“Shut up, before somebody hears you.”
“Then I shall speak louder, heretic. How—”
He snarled her into silence.
“Well?” Regina asked, quieter.
“…Alliance identification don’t distinguish species. Name. Platoon. Rank – that’s all.”
“You’re serious?”
“Gender, nor heritage, matter to the Ministry of Peace. All are welcome in the Civil Alliance, so long as you are seemingly devout, able-bodied, and of continental age. That which gives a mammal their autonomy doesn’t mean spittle to the Zuut. If only the rest of the world saw it that way.”
The joints in Regina’s gauntlet creaked around the pony’s saddle horn. The Zuut was said to be the Son of the Goddess; the Aznain faith spoke of community, complete peaceful unity, where all were accepted as they were – claws, fangs, and all. But still – it was an oversight far too broad to sweep between the cracks of logic.
The heretic seemed to sense her bafflement. “Those who worship the Zuut won’t betray his word, and no vandal-heart has ever successfully tried to slay a peace officer before. Now – be quiet, before somebody hears us.”
Regina fell quiet and considered the heretic’s words for the rest of their ride through Keeto Town. She wondered if this method of “travel” was something familiar to her captor, in order to avoid arrest thus far.
~
It was close to midnight by the time they made camp in a patch of moor brush not far outside of Keeto. Regina kept close to a wind-thirsty bonfire while the heretic prepared a stew of woodland rations, using her stolen Alliance helmet for a make-shift cooking cauldron.
Their eyes met as he hung the helmet on the bonfire’s spit, tied together from felled sycamore branches. Regina briefly looked away. With the heretic’s own helmet now removed, and no hood to cloak his youthful face, she wondered how old he was.
Her thoughts drifted. She’d never been so far outside the reach of the Hollow. She feared the consequence of her actions, and at once, Astral came to mind. Her fretful mind imagined him wandering the Keeton streets, aimless and desperate, clinging to anyone who passed.
H-have you seen … My daughter is gone … h-hullo? You! Please, my daughter – she’s just a skunk, just a – a – a little thing … have you … have you seen her…?
Then even worse, that Astral had gone into the woods to find her all on his own. The five years that’d passed since he rescued Regina and Dwain hadn’t been kind. He was frailer now, and while his mind was scythe-sharp, he could barely even walk in a straight line despite the use of two canes. If, by chance, he’d somehow fallen off of Phalanx’s saddle…
Regina didn’t want to think about it. The more they gained ground into the new stretch of what had to be the farthest edge of the moors, the more sick she felt at the thought of leaving him behind. Master … please know that I am okay. I will return to you soon, I promise. Please – please be all right.”
“What’s that look on your face for?”
“Huh?” Regina looked up at the heretic.
He was leaned back on one arm, a twig between his lips. “Expect a vagabond such as myself to not be much of a cook? Lucky for you, of all things, I can’t force you to eat. Your loss if you don’t, however. Plenty of nourishment in wild echidna stew.”
“It’s not that,” said Regina. She pushed the thoughts of Astral and the Hollow aside for now, and cleared her throat before tears could climb. “I’m sure you’re a fine cook. I just – you didn’t have to go and kill a poor echidna. There are plenty of birds around, don’t you think?”
“Can’t make wild echidna stew without wild echidna. What do you care, not like they’re mammals, like us.”
Regina blanched. “But they are mammals.”
The twig at the corner of the heretic’s muzzle slowed its gyration. A smirk slowly unrolled at the corners of his vulpine lips. He then snorted into a loud fit of laughter, nearly doubling over onto one side.
“They are mammals!” said Regina over his guffaws. “They’re not mammals like you or me, or anything like that—”
“Stop! Stop, please, I’ve had – they are mammals – gwafuahaha!!”
“—but even though they lay eggs, echidnas are considered mammals! Platypus, too!”
The heretic slapped his knee, laughing so hard into breathlessness, he did actually collapse onto his side, clutching himself round the middle.
“I’m serious!” Regina protested.
The heretic cleared his throat, wiped away tears from his eyes. He said with a wry grin, “Mammals have bills and webbed feet? They lay eggs, at that?”
“Yes! Well, no, but I mean, the platypus does! And alongside the echidna, they are the only two mammals able to do so!”
“A platypus is a bird, alchemist. Trust one who’s seen the curves of the whole world a thousand times around. I’ve never met a mammal that didn’t walk or talk, let alone hatches its kits. And you call yourself a scholar. Be grateful I’ve even stopped to feed you, precious. But that was good. I’ll give you that, that was good. Needed a laugh, we did.”
Regina sighed and returned her gaze to the fire. Thoughts of the sheathed Alliance knife at her hip returned. The rope that tied her wrists together burned like fire. She flicked her gaze back at the heretic. As much as she wished it, he would not turn his back on her. Not now.
She would have to wait.
When the heretic’s humour settled, he reached for the saddlebag laying beside him. He rummaged around inside its pockets until a glistening jagged sliver appeared in his paw – the shard Aruto had used to summon the wind as his weapon. He examined it in the moonlight.
Regina eyed it curiously, too. “Those temple-keepers the Alliance platoon murdered … Sergeant Aruto said they were Retainers.”
“That’s right,” said the heretic.
“So he wasn’t lying?”
“For once in his life, no.”
“But how? Weren’t the Retainers eradicated once the war ended?”
The heretic looked up at her. “Who told you that?”
“Nobody. I just … they called it a war.” Reg
ina shrugged at him. “War means two or more factions fight to achieve supremacy. The Zuut won over the Retainers.”
“Just because someone loses, doesn’t necessarily mean their lives have been lost. The Retainers were exiled, went into hiding – like my kin. Many Retainers reformed, devoted their lives to Azna’s true message of peace. Much like the Zuut wants for the rest of the world. They became temple-keepers – protectors of the Crystals – protectors of the world’s life force as we know it, I suppose.”
“Life … and Mana.” Regina eyed the saddlebag with a deep-thinking gaze. “The energies that flow through us and all around us – the very essence of why we exist, how we coexist.”
“You speak nonsense, alchemist.” The heretic dragged the bag into his lap and struggled to withdraw the crystal from within. When he finally did, the light of the full moon glinted in the deep cleft along its surface.
Regina took in a sharp inhale when the sight of the Wind Crystal brought forth inaudible whispers all around her. She focused on the relic until the ghostly voices faded. She murmured, “Through Life, mammals were brought together, and through Mana, those mammals were able to build the great temples that house the World Stones. The very tenants of Life and Mana Energies are the basis that an alchemist abides.”
“What are you chattering on about? Go to sleep and dream of your Alliance lover.”
With those words, loneliness and longing settled like dull weights in Regina’s heart. “I’ve slept enough.”
“Suit yourself. But for my sake, stop talking. Your nattering curiosity makes me want to jam worms down my ears.” The heretic levelled the jagged shard with the cleft in the Wind Crystal and put them together.
They were a perfect fit.
“Be honest. Is it true, what you said before?” Regina asked. She continued to gaze upon the Crystal, semi-lost in endless thought. “That you were trying to return the Crystal, not steal it.”
The heretic’s eyes darted her way, cold and grave. “That’s what I said, is it not?”
The Book of Wind: Page 27
