“What is this?” Zar asked, annoyed that Ramla had brought him there.
“She is my vessel,” Ramla answered, scooting to the nearby wall and pulling a torch from the sconce. “Everything you just did to me, you did to her.”
Zar didn’t want to ask, but he did anyway. “How?”
“The Art of Vessels,” Ramla said proudly. “What’s done to me is done to her. No, what’s done to me is manifest through her.” Ramla waved the torch in front of the bare body and moved the fire down to shine between the woman’s legs. Zar marveled at the mess between the maiden’s thighs and the wetness running down, and Ramla spoke again. “You’ve quite satisfied her.”
“Leviathan,” said Zar slowly.
“Only women can be vessels,” said Ramla, seeming delighted to teach Zar about the subject. “The womb is the carrier of life. There must be a womb to make the bond, and the bond is made from blood and fire.” Ramla waved the torch high, showing a patch of dried blood just under the woman’s throat. “The blood is the mark, the fire is the bond.”
“For how long?”
Ramla smiled as she motioned her head and eyes to the torch she was holding before sneaking her lips to Zar’s ear and whispering, “Only while the fire burns.”
Zar turned from Ramla and headed out the room, making it clear he was finished learning about her sorcery. The woman simply giggled as they made their way back to her chamber. He could barely sleep that night, even as tired as he was from his time with Ramla, and found it hard not to think about what he had seen—Ramla’s vessel in a trance, breathing heavily, wet between the legs with a smile of satisfaction on her lips. It indeed looked as though she had experienced everything he thought he had done to Ramla. Ramla, on the other hand, had looked fresh as a spring flower, having all the energy she had before, bouncing around and talking to Zar as if nothing had happened. The art of vessels. Why does she insist on showing me these things?
Zar awoke in the morning next to Ramla and sat up.
He looked down at the woman who still slept and shook his head, feeling the bite marks on his neck and shoulders. As he stretched out, he could feel the scratches across his back where Ramla had dug in her nails, and Zar chuckled at how much they stung. Nights with her were unlike nights with any other.
Ramla soon awoke and her maidens brought food for their morning meal. After breakfast, Zar wasted no time getting back on the road. He bade farewell to Ramla and kissed her, and met Asha at the mouth of the caverns where she waited for him. They spent the rest of the morning navigating out of the cliffs, and as soon as they were clear of them Zar found a nice stretch of greenery for Asha to graze on.
“Not once do I regret the day I saved the witch from execution,” said Zar, looking over to Asha. “Well, a witch is what they called her, but to me she was a beautiful oracle from the west. I was taken by her because she was unlike anything I had ever seen, and even though she was strange, I saw no evil in her eyes. But who am I to judge what is evil, and who were they? So I cut them down and saved her from beheading.
“That day I decided that the judgments of people were worthless, and the law of man false, for here was a girl condemned as a witch, ordered to have her head cut from her body. But her condemners were far more corrupt than she, for I’m sure as her garments were torn it was only after they raped her that they condemned her to beheading. What a world we belong to.
“Unless a man is good he has no right to pass out judgment, and I can count on one hand the number of good men I know. No, even good men can err, so even good men shouldn’t pass judgment. It just isn’t our place, is it, Asha? That’s why I judge no one. That’s why I’m still her friend, even though she does things I want no part of.”
Zar thought he heard a groan from Asha, and the camel lifted her head from the vegetation and looked at him.
“I’m not justifying it,” said Zar, defensively. “I have no shame in being friends with her and I don’t think it’s wrong. I just wanted to tell you because I met her before I met you and you might not understand. If you’re finished eating we can go. We’ll need gold if we’re going to leave the continent. Let’s just pray we don’t drown in the sea and lose it all.”
Asha kneeled and Zar mounted. She automatically headed for their secluded oasis without any direction. The way was south from Or, and after a command from Zar, Asha picked up her pace until she was running over the hills and through the trees. She ran until she grew tired and then walked as she rested herself. When Zar felt like they were moving too slow and complained that they would never get there, he commanded her to run again. She grunted disapprovingly, but ran nonetheless—that is, until she grew tired again and slowed back to a walk. They traveled this way for the rest of the day before they came to their dell. Night was already falling, so they rushed into the wood to find their secret place and make fire for camp.
“Wait,” Zar warned as they trotted into the woods, and Asha stopped her running and stood quietly in the forest. “We must make sure there’s no one here. Asha, are there other people around?”
Asha looked around, lifted her head and breathed in deep. She was quiet.
“Are you sure,” Zar asked. “No one following behind?”
Asha stayed quiet and calm, and after a few more seconds proceeded to walk to their spot in the woods where the sweltering steam from a hot spring moistened the bark of the trees, and a cache of gold and jewels was hid in the earth under inconspicuous and strategically placed stones.
Asha never entered the water, but she did seem to enjoy the steam. She lounged in it, not moving an inch as she sat by the bank of the small pool, letting the mist envelop her. Zar made haste to build a fire, and as soon as he did, pulled off his clothes and waded into the pool. The hot water soothed his bones and relaxed him instantly, and Zar leaned his back against the earthy wall and rested his arms on the bank. Soon his head was resting back as well, and both him and Asha lulled off into a nap—him in the water, and her in the steam. Zar awoke as he slid into the pool, and crawled up onto the bank to resume his sleep beside Asha in the mist.
The morning came after a long and dallied rest. Both Asha and Zar had awoken early in the morning, but were called back to sleep because of the steam. So they rolled over and resituated, and told themselves just a little while longer until the hot midday sun beamed down between the trees.
“Ah, Leviathan!” yelled Zar, hopping up. “Would you let me sleep all day?”
Asha rose casually and moved away from Zar to a patch of green shrubs.
“You could’ve woken me! We are wanted by the king. We can’t sleep through the day like babes!”
Asha turned to Zar with a mouth full of greenery, smacking her lips as she eyed him.
“Aye, we,” said Zar. “Think they’ll spare you just because you didn’t kill anyone? Think again, Asha. They’ll kill you just the same and skin you like game!”
Asha groaned loudly, jaws pulled wide enough to see her teeth, the slobber stretching from the roof of her mouth to the bottom.
“Aye, you’re mad because I speak the truth,” Zar retorted. “Now come here. My breakfast is in your saddlebag.”
Asha leaned her head down, taking a few munches on the shrubs below her, then walked angrily away from Zar, hips swinging in distemper.
“Wait, Asha,” Zar called, “I haven’t got our gold. Keep alert to make sure we’re alone.”
Zar strutted over to a cluster of large stones. He rolled a couple of them over and poked around in the dirt underneath them until the earth gave way, and his hand sunk into the ground until his fingertips touched cold metal. He stuck in his other hand and parted the dirt. Soil poured into the crevice, dimming the glimmer of various golden nuggets and a motley assortment of precious stones.
He took mostly gold pieces, adding a handful to his waist- purse, then selected three jewels—all bright in color, large, and very valuable—and stuffed them into a hidden pouch inside his boot. He filled the crevice with soil, an
d replaced the stones, looking overly suspicious and calling out to Asha all the while. “Asha, where are you? You’re supposed to be keeping watch!”
Zar followed the sound of his friend’s groans until he could see her golden body between the trees. She stopped for him, but didn’t kneel, and Zar reached up for her saddle and pulled himself on.
They traveled west towards the coast, and after a day and a half of eating dried meat from his saddle bag and wild edibles on their way, Zar grew hungry for cooked game and stopped shortly after passing a stream.
“Asha, at dusk that green field we passed with the creek running through it will be full of deer. It’ll be an easy hunt, I daresay.”
Asha, who was quite ready for another rest made no objection and immediately came to a stop. She kneeled down, allowing Zar to dismount easily, and remained kneeled as Zar pulled out the short bow and quiver that was tucked along the side of her saddle. Zar strung the bow as Asha wandered around, munching on the best vegetation she could find. Before long she had lain down to rest, and Zar, also feeling lethargic under the afternoon sun, sat against her, resting his back on her body and laying his head against her fur. They both napped and the evening came quickly. “Stay here, Asha.”
Zar headed back in the direction of the creek, where the plants around it were the brightest green, and the ferns grew high along the edge of the water. When he was close, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled. A small herd of deer appeared through the brush—some drinking from the water, and others eating from the shrubbery on the bank.
Zar scooted a bit closer on his elbows, anxiously, too impatient to check the direction of the wind to see if they would catch his sent first. He was already in range for the shot, so he would take it. He carefully lifted up on his arms and brought his knees forward until he rested on them. He leaned his weight back and slowly lifted his arms and pulled back his bowstring. He released and the whole herd scattered as one doe fell into the grass. Zar jumped up as he eyed his quarry lying still on the ground.
As he ran towards it he spotted a deer that hadn’t run, and Zar slowed down baffled by the site of it. The deer stood in tall grass, and only his head and upper body could be seen clearly. It had a most awkward look to it, and as Zar watched, human arms holding a drawn bow sprung from its hide.
“Be still or be shot,” it spoke. “Breathe too hard or blink and my arrow finds you.”
Zar’s bow lay still in his left hand, and he did not raise it. His quiver was belted to his waist, but he didn’t even think about reaching for it. “Who are you?”
“I am the Hunter.”
The figure lifted up onto two legs, and the arms lowered the bow and pulled back on the head of the deer to reveal a man’s face underneath. “Though you know me by a different name,” he said.
The hide of the animal slid off the man’s back as Zar called out to the familiar face, “Lawless Tuskin! I thought I was a dead man!”
“You woulda been if I was yur enemy.” Tuskin moved forward and extended his arm, and Zar reached out and gripped Tuskin’s forearm.
“Well, aren’t you?” said Zar, showing an open smile. “I was specifically told that the Hunter would be after my life.” Tuskin’s grinning face went solemn and the man asked eagerly, “Who told you?”
“A very knowledgeable friend.”
“You know more than I thought,” said Tuskin, looking straight into Zar’s eyes. “Good, that’s less things I have to tell you.”
“What things do you speak of?”
Tuskin motioned his head towards the doe that Zar had shot and his braids went wriggling over his eyes. “Let’s prepare the game, eh? My camp is in the woods just a short walk east. I got the sharpest skinnin’ knife there with my things.”
The two carried the game to the place Zar had left Asha, slung the kill over her back and made off to Tuskin’s camp in the woods. The clearing he called camp had the ashes of an old campfire blowing over the ground and not much else except for a few rolled up furs. There was a stout brown and white speckled horse tied to a tree, and Tuskin reached into the animal’s saddle bag and pulled out a knife, some rope, and a round stone.
“Here, I’ll do it,” said Tuskin and immediately began cutting off a length of rope and tying it around the neck of the carcass. Zar started looking for a tree to hang it on and pointed Tuskin to a branch that would work perfectly. Tuskin threw the rope over and Zar caught it on the other side and pulled until the carcass lifted into the air. He held the rope steady as Tuskin tied it around a tree trunk.
“So why are you here, Tuskin? Or should I call you the Hunter?” said Zar with a chuckle.
“I detest that name,” Tuskin insisted. “I’m no longer one of them—I haven’t been for some time. I’ve been tracking you, Zar. I needed to inform you.”
“Inform me of what?”
Tuskin cut in a circular motion around the joint of the doe’s right front leg. He then snapped off the limb. “Well, my answer depends on how much you know. Who told you the Hunter would come for you?”
“Not long ago I did a foolish thing,” said Zar, watching Tuskin snap off the remaining limbs of the animal. “I rode to the capital and yelled curses at the king inside his city. I was chased by Prince Tharid and his men.”
Tuskin laughed. “You’re a brazen man, Zar. Brazen!” The man cut from the broken off front limbs all the way up to the neck and then around it in a circle.
“It was because of a friend. She was captured—taken to a storehouse with dozens of other women. Only the gods know why. When I found the place, the women were caged up like animals in the stalls. One was being raped when I arrived.”
Tuskin was pulling down on the deer’s hide to peel back the fur, but the man stopped upon hearing Zar’s words. “I found out it was ordered by Tiomot and I lost my temper.”
“Rightly so,” said Tuskin. The man had peeled the hide about a quarter way down the body, rolled over the fur and tucked the round stone from his saddlebag inside. He held in his hand the knot of fur created by the stone and tied a piece of rope tightly around it. He fastened the rope to his mount’s saddle and smacked it’s rump to make it march forward.
“I went to a friend of mine,” said Zar, watching the deer’s body stretched straight by the tension of the rope and its skin being pulled off as the horse moved forward. “An old friend of mine, and I asked her to tell me what would happen if I stayed here.”
“How could she?” asked Tuskin. “She’s an oracle,” said Zar.
“A witch?” Tuskin questioned. “How do we judge the difference?”
“Such power comes from one of two places,” said Tuskin, beginning to quarter the skinned deer which hung between them. “Gods or demons.”
“And have I told you so much about my friend that you can determine where hers comes from?”
“Not at all, swordsman. That is a debate for another time. Tell me what she told you.”
“She told me the obvious, that I would be a wanted man by the king, but she also said that in an attempt to get rid of me, the king had hired three of the land’s best killers to hunt me down. Their names are the Butcher, the Hunter, and the Ghost—all former members of the clan of the Condor.
“Speaking of them, they are up to something as well. I came across one who had an interesting story. Things will happen in Krii soon. I don’t understand it all, but I’ve a good idea. The Condor want Snowstone, and I imagine they’ve been up to all manner of collusions to get it.
“A man I met complained of his woman being in Snowstone Castle at the will of his queen. A spy I would guess. I’m sure they know every move Snowstone will make before they make it.”
Zar thought he had gotten a little carried away with talking when he looked at Tuskin to find him already striking flint to start fire, and with the pieces of venison skewered on sticks, waiting to be roasted. Tuskin blew tiny embers into a flame before standing.
“I can fill in the rest for you, I think,” said Tuskin.
“I’ll start by saying the same people who want you dead now want me dead as well. They want you dead because the king commands it, and Anza, Queen of the Condor serves Tiomot as a ruse so he will trust her. Of course she really wants his kingdom but that lecherous fool won’t realize that ‘til it’s too late. They want me dead because I turned down a job that would put the two kingdoms at war and told them I would fight to keep peace between north and south. It’s as you said, they’ve been plottin’. They’ve been plottin’ and schemin’ and doin’ things to make sure that Snowstone and Cyana go to war. And after Snowstone is weak from battles they’ll swarm in and take the kingdom for themselves. That’s what they want. That’s what they’re tryin’ to do.”
“So King Tiomot has called on Anza to get rid of me,” said Zar, watching the fire’s flames roast the skewered meat. “Aye,” said Tuskin. “But Anza is most careful. She hires us deserters to do her dirty work. The Butcher, the Ghost, and I were all Condor once, but we wanted a different life—outside of the clan—out in the world away from the old laws. We wanted to be free. Your friend must’ve… seen that Anza would call on us three apostates, but didn’t know I would be against Anza. Interesting.”
“It seems she’s limited on the specifics, but a good account overall,” said Zar, smiling at the fact that Ramla had said there was something different about the Hunter that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“Aye. Well, I have been searching for you, Zar, because you’re the one man that I believe can help me ruin the Condor’s plans.”
“But to what end? If the Condor truly plan to take Snowstone, the conflict is unavoidable. If you plan to oppose the Condor, do we then back Tiomot? If that’s what you’re suggesting, you’re far madder then I believed.”
Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) Page 19
