Zara the Wolf

by C. R. Daems

  "Listen up. We only need two guards and a cook, so unless one of you five can cook, we need to eliminate three of you. Let's see the following matches: Sammie, you and Carl. Ricco, you and Mark. And, Zara, you and Bert. You'll start when I say start and stop when I say stop. Is that clear?"

  Nods greeted his announcement along with grins and smiles, mostly toward me. Lutz retrieved two wooden swords and handed one each to Sammie and Carl and motioned to the gate into the coral, which was empty.

  Lutz followed them into the coral while the rest of us positioned ourselves to watch. Carl looked nervous right from the start, and his strikes were hesitant and weak. Sammie quickly became more aggressive and Carl failed to block a cut to the arm and immediately afterward a thrust to the chest.

  "Stop," Lutz said, stopping to examine Carl’s arm and chest. "Ricco. Mark. You're next."

  It was obvious that he had paired the two he considered the best with the two worst, because Mark didn't stand a chance and went down with a blow to the head. Lutz frowned at Ricco but said nothing. It didn't surprise me. Ricco was the one I thought not only dangerous but sadistic. I'd seen that look many times with the Ojaza. Lutz waited until Mark's head was bandaged and he was conscious. He then waved to Bert and me, handed us the swords, and stood silent while waiting for us to face each other. Bert was smiling.

  "Start," Lutz said, pulling his hand from between us. Bert immediately charged with a hard blow aimed at my ribs. I met the blow with my sword angled up, so his sword slid up to my guard, dissipating the force of a direct hit which would have driven my sword into me. He smiled as I stepped backward, and followed with an overhead strike to my head. Again, I met the blow with my sword angled up. The force of the blow caused his sword to slide down into my guard. I stepped back again, watching the excitement on his face as he lunged forward with a thrust to my chest. I twisted ninety-degrees as his sword thrust toward me, guiding it by my stomach with my sword. His momentum carried him to within inches of me, and I slid my sword up along his chest and reversed the blade, letting it lie at his neck. "Stop," Lutz shouted. Bert's face had turned pale, and he had stopped smiling.

  "You can go, Bert." Lutz waved him away and then turned to me. "If you insist on wanting to be a guard, then I'll have to match you with either Ricci or Sammie. If you win, we'll be without a cook. I've talked to Merchant Raigosa, and if you'll agree to cook, he'll pay you the same wages as the guards."

  "How much?" I asked. According to Aaron, pay was negotiable, and although this was the perfect opportunity and I was going regardless, he didn't know that and I needed the practice.

  He grinned. "You’re not quite the savage the rumors make you out to be. One silver per day plus food and rooms when we stay overnight in a town. And a ten-silver bonus if you stay until Calle." It sounded reasonable, but ... I had to assume he hadn’t made his best offer.

  "Two silvers a day and a gold if I stay until Calle. I'll be doing two jobs, and my experience may prove useful." Hopefully, he wouldn't just dismiss me as being unreasonable.

  He laughed. "Did you really live among the ... tribes in the Black Mountains?"

  "The Ojaza," I said, pulling my collar away from my neck to show the wolf's-head tattoo. He leaned closer and then nodded.

  "I think I can talk Merchant Raigosa into one and a half silver per day and a gold if you stay until Calle. Your knowledge may well be worth it, since we'll be traveling along the Black Mountain range most of the way to Calle."

  I nodded, but it took all my considerable self-control not to smile or laugh. I had successfully negotiated my first contract. Of course, that could be a poor salary for a guard, I chided myself. Not that it mattered, since I would have accepted the one silver offer to go, but according to the soldiers, I thought it a good wage. Lutz walked over to Raigosa and talked for several minutes before returning.

  "You’re hired. I hope you can cook," he said with a grin. "Calle is months away. I'll arrange for a room at the Inn. We leave the day after tomorrow."

  Over the next two days, I learned the merchant's caravan had ten mules, two wagons, six guards, and was introduced to the Raigosa party: a female companion, Shelia, his two sons, Cesar and Filipe, and two assistants, Agron and Osher.

  Two guards were on duty night and day. Lutz was the senior guard. Three others—Dimas, Goyo, and Juan—had been with Raigosa since they left Calle, and Ricci and Sammie were new. I stood guard twice with Sammie and liked him, but I knew Ricci would be trouble. Savages and people of Aesona weren't that much different under the skin.

  * * *

  I was glad for my time at the Manola community helping the women prepare meals. As a result, I had a good idea on the amount of food it took to feed thirteen people and could cook a variety of basic meals. The time there had served me well. The first night after dinner, Raigosa approached.

  "That was a good meal, Zara. I had my doubts about you, but as usual, Lutz's instincts are good. Any thoughts about the tribes?" he asked, sitting down next to me.

  "I doubt they’ll be a problem. First, this is a long way from where they live, so it's not a yearly occurrence. Second, they’re after cattle, grain, and slaves—not the kind of merchandise you carry. Gold and silver mean nothing to them. I'd think you have more to fear from bandits."

  "They don't care about gold and silver?" He laughed.

  "No. If they did attack, they would take the mules and little else. Of course, that wouldn't matter since they would kill us all," I said.

  Raigosa's face turned pale. "Why?"

  "So you couldn't sound an alarm. Raiding parties are comprised of warriors. Killing is what they are trained to do, and they are very good at it."

  "I have six ... seven guards."

  "A raiding party would have at least fifteen warriors. I haven't seen everyone fight, but I suspect most would do poorly against a warrior one-on-one, and they would have you out numbered two-to-one and have the element of surprise."

  "What about you?"

  "They would eventually overwhelm me with numbers." I couldn't help the image of my father being hacked to death by two warriors. "If you have advance notice, I advise leaving the mules and wagons and running. Except for the mules, they’ll take little of value to you."

  "So you would run?" He looked angry.

  "No, we have an agreement. I will stay while you or anyone in your party is alive."

  * * *

  I woke when I heard someone near where I lay. I wasn’t sure what I heard: breathing, a twig, a dried leaf, or something on their clothing—slaves learn to sleep lightly. I slid my dagger loose and waited. Soon my blanket was lifted up and someone reeking of whiskey slid in beside me, his hand groping for my breast. He was naked. He froze when I laid my dagger with its cold blade against his stomach.

  "The next time, it won't be a cold blade you feel. It'll be hot blood and guts running down your legs," I said loudly enough to be heard by anyone nearby. "No second chance," I said, sensing he wasn't alone. Sure enough, I heard someone trying to muffle a laugh. As he inched away from me, I could see it was Dimas, and off in the shadows his friends Goyo and Juan. I pulled the blanket over me and closed my eyes, hoping I had discouraged any more late-night visitors.

  * * *

  While I was preparing breakfast, Lutz appeared.

  "Thank you for not killing Dimas. He's harmless, but he did go too far last night. You handled it well, and your message was loud and clear." He laughed. "Isn't that ... Indian sword a bit of a disadvantage? It's several inches shorter than our standard sword."

  "It's light and what I learned with. Besides, the Ojaza don't fight the way you do. They don't use horses, so the sword needs to be light. They fight as a team, not as individuals. One will wound you and the next kill you, or one hold your attention while another kills you."

  "But you don't have a partner." He pressed his point.

  "Don't confuse they work as a team with they aren't good fighters. They are better trained than most soldiers, and t
hey aren't afraid of dying or being hurt."

  "You aren't?"

  "For better or worse, I'm an Ojaza warrior," I said, knowing I would still be a slave if I had been afraid of dying. But is that still true? I wondered. I suspected by now it was burned into my very being—free or dead.

  * * *

  The next several weeks settled into a comfortable routine. In each new town, Merchant Raigosa set up a tent in the market area, where his sons and assistants sold merchandise while he visited local artisans, buying articles unique to the town and meeting with wealthy merchants and royalty to sell items of interest. Since I didn't cook on those days, I rotated with the guards, who pulled eight-hour shifts twenty-four hours a day.

  On the road, I would get up early to start breakfast, which was the last meal until we stopped at night. The others would wake an hour later and have breakfast. While they packed the mules, I cleaned up and put away the supplies and cooking utensils. We then traveled until dusk, unless we made a town that day. At the camp, the mules would be unloaded while I prepared dinner. After dinner, two guards would begin patrolling—mules, horses, wagons, and merchandise—two shifts, four hours long, which meant the men got a rest night every third day.

  "Well Zara, what do you think about caravan duty?" Dimas asked. I had come to accept him as a good-natured clown. He couldn’t help flirting, accepted rejection well, and appeared to be liked by the tales I heard around the campfire at night.

  "Except for the occasional interruption of my sleep, it's been interesting. I'm enjoying the experience," I said.

  "Did you really live with the savages?" asked Cesar, the youngest of Raigosa's sons, which got everyone's attention. "That must have been exciting."

  "No, it wasn't. They raided my village, killed my father and mother, and made me a slave. Their camp dogs are treated better than a slave."

  "But they trained you to fight," said Fillpe, Raigosa's oldest son.

  "They used me as a live opponent for their youth to practice on, assuming they would cripple or kill me eventually."

  "But you survived," Cesar said, eyes bright with excitement.

  "Yes. A mistake they will long remember," I said. "Those with the warrior's spirit make poor slaves."

  "You think you have the warrior's spirit?" Ricci asked. His face had a sneer, and his voice dripped with contempt.

  "Don't know, but they would tell you I made a poor slave." I smiled. "Where is our next stop?"

  "Berone," Fillpe said quickly, cleverly changing the topic and easing the tension. "We will be there for a week. The town has an earl, several barons, and more than ten thousand people. Father has a lot of contacts in Berone and does a lot of business there."

  * * *

  "Come in," I said to the knock, and Raigosa opened the door. I had been going over a map of Aesona I purchased at one of the vendors in the market. The country was huge and would take years to travel. It bordered another country, Bratti, on the other side of the Black Mountain Range. Otherwise, it was surrounded by water: the western and eastern oceans, which met at the southern tip at the town of Kariso.

  "Zara, I have an appointment with the Earl of Berone today. He has asked me to bring you along. Somehow, he heard you lived with the mountain tribes," Raigosa said. I didn't doubt he was the one that told him about me. I should ask for a bonus, I mused, not letting my amusement reach my lips. I nodded, slipped on my boots and leather belt, and slid my sword and dagger into their sheaths.

  Outside, Lutz and Cesar waited with a mule loaded with two packs and two horses, one mine. Four soldiers armed with pikes and swords and dressed in the earl's red and silver colors waited. Honor guard, security, or escort? I wondered. We made our way through the city at a slow trot with two of the earl's guards leading and two trailing.

  Inside the walls, a four-story castle stood at the end of a long narrow courtyard flanked by several one-story buildings for staff, a barracks for the soldiers, and a stable. The castle looked hundreds of years old judging by the ivy growing on the walls. A grey-haired man met us at the bottom of the twenty steps leading to the double-door entrance.

  "Welcome, Merchant Raigosa. The earl is looking forward to seeing you. If you would have your son and Lutz carry your merchandise into the reception room, he would like to see you and ... the woman alone in his study."

  "Of course, Minister Warin," Raigosa said, then nodded to me before turning and following him down a wide hallway with paintings of men and women to a large wood-paneled room. Inside, a broad-shouldered man with a square face sat behind a large desk. Based on the heads of animals decorating the walls, he liked to hunt. His eyes travelled from my head to my feet before turning to Raigosa.

  "Good morning, Raigosa. You look well. Sit. Would you like some wine?" When Raigosa nodded, Warin quickly poured a glass and handed it to him as he sat. "Who is your new employee?"

  "This is Zara. She is my new cook. She signed on in Oberen. Zara, this is Earl Pasquel."

  "Zara," he said like he was naming a new animal. "I'm told you lived with the savages in the Black Mountains."

  "As a slave," I said, still standing.

  "But they taught you to fight." He pointed to my sword.

  "For the amusement of their youth."

  "How would you like to join me in wiping out the savages?" His eyes locked on mine.

  "I hate the tribes as much as anyone. I watched them kill my father and mother, and they made me a slave. But going after them is … a waste of time and lives," I said, barely stopping myself from saying, ‘a fool’s errand.’

  "You don't think I'll find and kill them?" he said in a snarl, defying me to contradict him.

  "They are warriors and hunters, not gatherers. They will know you are coming days before you reach them and will be gone before you get to their camp. If you bring fewer than two hundred, they will kill you all. Their warriors are better trained than your soldiers, and the mountains are their hunting grounds. They begin their warrior training when they are children. If you send more than two hundred troopers, how will you bring enough supplies to feed your men over the weeks and months chasing them? They can live off the land, can you?"

  I had said too much. Royalty don’t like to be lectured by savages, I mused mentally.

  "They caught you as a child. I'm afraid you have a child's view of their superiority," he said, giving me a knowing smile.

  "I was very young, sir," I said, tired of the topic, of the earl, and of wasting my time trying to help. I idly wondered what he imagined: riding into their camp with his cavalry, hacking off their heads—for mounting later—and returning victorious, in a week at most. In reality, it would take him and his soldiers a month to reach their camp, since the terrain for the most part wasn't suitable for horses. The tribe would be gone, along with the supplies he had taken for his glorious week’s savage-hunt.

  "Well, Raigosa, let's go look at what you've brought me," the earl said, dismissing me. He spent the next two hours haggling with Raigosa over items. Eventually, he bought two jeweled daggers, a vase, and several leather items. Raigosa and his son were asked to stay for dinner, and Lutz and I were told to take the mule and packs back to the market.

  "What did you think of the earl?" Lutz asked as we rode back.

  I didn't answer right away, as I had conflicting emotions. "Arrogant if he believes he can invade the mountains and kill the savages. A fool if he tries," I finally said.

  Lutz laughed. "That's typical of most royalty. They have all the answers and don't like being told they don't or being made to look the fool."

  * * *

  We left four days later. From the conversations I heard, Raigosa had made a nice profit in Berone and was in a good mood.

  "Zara, what did you think of Earl Pasquel?" Raigosa asked as he rode up beside me.

  "He seems to know more about the savages than I do." I shrugged, not sure what he was looking for. I was still learning about the world of Aesona and its conventions. The Ojaza world was much simpler.


  "You're adapting well, Zara. There is little to be gained by arguing with royalty. Your comments to him sounded valid to me. I'm glad you're along," he said and spurred his horse ahead toward his wagon.

  The next town was Turnus, about a six-day journey. I was happy with my decision to join the caravan. I didn't mind cooking; it was better than walking around the camp in the early hours of the morning, and I was being paid well—a half-silver more than several of the guards, I learned. And being with a merchant, I was learning a lot about people, prices, trading, and being a caravan guard.

  We had finished dinner, and I sat by the fire watching Lutz working with Dimas, Goyo, and Juan on sword techniques.

  "Zara, come over here," he said, stopping an exercise he was showing Goyo. "What can you tell us about the Indians' sword techniques?"

  "They have no ethics," I said. "Everything is fair game, even things you might not consider worth scoring against, a leg for example. They are happy crippling you. Their swords are shorter and lighter, so they can reverse direction easier. It means they have to get close to you to be effective, and up-close you are less effective because of your longer sword." I spent the next ten minutes demonstrating what I was talking about.

  "That was good," Lutz said afterward. "In Turnus I'm going to have a practice sword made like yours. I think it would be good training, and I'd like a session with you, if you don't mind."

  "No, I could use practice against a long sword." I liked the idea.

  * * *

  I lay quietly listening to the night sounds of owls and occasionally a wolf, which I did each morning before rising to prepare breakfast. Then I heard it, a thud followed by an explosive release of breath. Throwing off my blanket, I grabbed my sword and dagger as I scanned the area—someone had shot someone. I had heard that sound before, an arrow in the chest. Then I saw Goyo sprawled on the ground with an arrow sticking out of his chest. A man kneeling on the far side of the camp was nocking an arrow as he looked in Dimas’s direction. I screamed an Ojaza war cry as I jumped up and raced toward the bowman. At the cry, he jerked as he released the arrow. I hoped it had missed Dimas, and that my war cry had awakened the camp. The bowman fumbled as he tried to nock another arrow as he watched me closing the distance to him. He dropped it, but another man came running past him, sword raised for an overhead hack at me. Rather than attempt to block the downward strike, I ducked under his arm and delivered an upward slice into his armpit. He screamed, dropping the sword. I twisted my wrist, reversing my sword as it cleared him, and sliced through the bowman's neck as I passed him.