Zara the Wolf

by C. R. Daems

  I spun in a circle, barely avoiding a thrust to my stomach by another man and delivering a slash across his kidneys as my momentum carried me past him. In front of me, three men were running toward a group of horses held by a mounted man. I caught up to the one I was chasing and sliced through his thigh as I ran past him. Five men rode off before I reached the horses. I stopped, having no reason to chase them. A minute later, Lutz and Sammie arrived. They were panting hard.

  "By the gods, you're fast," Sammie said between gasps for air.

  "Are you hurt, Zara?" Lutz asked.

  I looked at my arms and down my body. There was a fair amount of blood, but none of it was mine. I shook my head.

  "You explained this to me the other day," Lutz said. "You told me they work as a team and are content to cripple. That it's faster to wound and keep going, letting the next warrior or the next finish the person off, and that the ferocity of the attack tends to freeze their opponents. I heard you, but I didn't understand."

  "Thanks, Zara," Dimas said a few minutes later. "That arrow tore the sleeve of my jacket. If you hadn't screamed, I'd be dead."

  "Maybe he was just a lousy marksman," I said as Raigosa, his two sons, and Shelia approached.

  "He got Goyo through the heart," Sammie said.

  "What happened, Lutz?" Raigosa asked.

  "Zara just saved the caravan and our lives. They had a bowman to take out the guards and eight or nine men with swords ... " Lutz went on to explain what he’d seen, which was mostly my Ojaza charge into the group. It took several hours to catch the dead men's horses, collect their gear, and bury the dead. Apparently, Ricci had killed a couple of the wounded as he followed behind me along with the others. Two others had bled to death.

  "You're not very good with that sword. I had to kill several you only wounded," Ricci said with a sneer.

  "I'm grateful, Ricci," I said and walked away. I had ignored the Ojaza's insults and taunts because it would have caused me more trouble. I had ignored the baron and earl and others like Ricci for the same reason. I didn't care if they considered me a slave, or savage, or stupid. I wasn't a slave who would be a warrior; I was a warrior who wouldn't be a slave. And I wasn't a savage who would be civilized. I was still a child trying to find my way in a somewhat savage world.

  * * *

  Turnus was about the size of Oberen, with a baron the highest-ranking royalty. Fortunately, he didn't seem interested in talking to me. We spent only three days there. In each town, I tried to take every opportunity to visit and talk to whoever would talk to me. Usually, when people found me interested in what they did, they were eager to talk about their lives. I didn't know what I was searching for but knew from the Manola Community that all knowledge was useful. True to his word, Lutz had a practice sword made but without my special hand-guards.

  "Zara, what do you think of this sword?" he asked, handing me the wooden practice sword our first night out of Turnus. It looked to be an exact replicate when I laid it against mine.

  "A perfect match," I said, smiling.

  "You said you wouldn’t mind working out with me," he said, looking excited at the prospect. Lutz was a professional mercenary and wouldn't pass up any opportunity to improve his skill.

  "Come, there's an open area over there which should do." I pointed to a grassy area. I liked Lutz, and in truth I relished the opportunity to improve my skill against the long sword everyone used. Any fights with people would be duels, not hit and run encounters like with the bandits. When we reached the clearing, we separated, and I nodded my readiness to start. Lutz began with an aggressive attack using quick strong strikes, which I countered with an angled sword. I had learned early while training with the warriors that blocking with your sword perpendicular to your opponent's absorbs the maximum force, and since I was weaker it usually drove my sword into me or knocked me off balance. If, however, I angled my sword, then the force of my opponent's blow caused his sword to slide along mine, dissipating most of the force. Lutz scored multiple times and finally stopped.

  "You're not trying to score. You're analyzing my style, aren't you?" He said accusingly, then laughed.

  I shrugged. "That is how I survived the Ojaza. They accepted me for training to amuse their youth, planning on crippling or killing me eventually."

  "Do you think you know how to fight me now?"

  "I think so," I said, stepping back and readying myself.

  Again he came at me with quick hard strokes. He didn't repeat any pattern of strokes but varied his attack, probing for a weakness. On one two-handed strike to my ribs, I stepped in and blocked with my sword against his arms, then spun away with my sword lying along my spine. He had recovered quickly, and his counterstrike hit the sword protecting my back. He laughed.

  "I've never seen that move before. Of course, I've never thought of presenting my back to someone. So you've cut my arm, enough to sever it or at least cause serious bleeding, and you're unhurt. Yes, you would win. Clever."

  * * *

  We worked out on a regular basis over the next several weeks. Lutz was an excellent sword fighter, and I learned a lot. By the end of a month, I thought I could hold my own against a good sword fighter.

  "I have to admit I never thought of the tribes as being good sword fighters. But if you consider yourself only average, those warriors are anyone's equal. And their tendency to attack parts of the body we don't normally consider targets gives them an advantage."

  "Most people confuse savage with ignorant and incompetent. They may be ignorant in the ways of civilized society, but in the mountains we are the ignorant ones and their warriors are far better trained than our average soldier."

  "I see your point, but I doubt soldiers or royalty would," he said after an hour's workout one night. "What do you plan to do when we reach Calle? Merchant Raigosa only makes the trip to Oberen once every three or four years."

  "No idea. Look for work, preferably that takes me to another part of Aesona."

  "You can use my name as a reference. I have a good reputation as a guard. And if you let me know where you are staying, I'll tell you if I hear of anything."

  "I'd appreciate that."

  * * *

  A week later, we cleared the Black Mountains and the ground became rolling hills and grassland. The temperature rose each day, and the smell of the ocean filled the air. Everyone relaxed, and the mood lightened as more and more farms and small villages appeared. Two days later, the town of Calle lay before us, spread out as far as the eye could see.

  "How many?" I asked Cesar, who was riding alongside me.

  "Fifty thousand. Calle is a major port for supplies needed by the settlements inland. This is Duke Wetzel's domain. He's well liked and as fair as royalty can be." Cesar gave a small laugh. "He sees royalty as better than the general citizens, the merchants as providing him his luxuries, and the commoners as necessary. Even given those biases, most consider him fair and reasonable. He's probably the best of the Aesona Dukes."

  "Where is the best place to look for work?" I asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by a town with so many people. And I had thought Oberen large. I shook my head at the thought. Several hours later, we reached the outskirts of Calle and the road became a dirt street with houses, stalls, and shops on both sides. As we rode deeper into town, the shops and houses looked sturdier and better maintained. At one point, we turned toward the ocean and away from the paved road that led to the walled city and Duke Wetzel's castle.

  Raigosa owned a large warehouse less than a mile from the merchant's market, the place where bulk sales were conducted. The general market was closer to the city wall, providing easy access from the city and the surrounding area. I spent the day helping unload the mules and store the items. When we finished, Raigosa called the caravan guards together.

  "Payday, Dimas." Raigosa sat behind a small wooden desk with stacks of coppers, silvers, and golds. Lutz stood behind him. Dimas walked up to the desk, talked to Raigosa for several minutes, signed a paper, a
nd walked away smiling at the coins in his hand. I was last.

  "I had my doubts when Lutz recommended I hire you, a woman with no previous experience. If I hadn’t needed a cook, I don't think I would've. You worked forty days, that's sixty-silvers. You withdrew twenty silvers during the trip, so you are due forty, or four golds. I promised you a gold if you stayed to Calle, so that’s five golds. And I'm adding two golds for saving the caravan. Here are seven golds and my gratitude. I will offer you a guard’s job here if you want, but it only pays ten coppers a day."

  "Thank you, Merchant Raigosa. I appreciate the offer, but I want to travel and see the rest of Aesona."

  "Talking to Lutz, I thought so. You can use my name as a reference for any position. I have a good reputation in Calle, even with the duke." He handed me six golds and ten silvers, which was a good idea. Showing golds could attract the wrong kind of attention.

  "You can give my name as a reference too," Lutz said. "And I’ll keep an eye open for anything that might interest you. I recommend you stay at the Lazy Mug. It's clean and reasonably priced, and the food's good. If you decide not to, let me know where in case I hear something. You can find me here. I sometimes take part-time jobs, but Raigosa will know where I am."

  I followed Lutz's directions and found the Lazy Mug easily. It was about two miles from the merchants’ market and two miles from the gates to the city, which I planned to visit. The room was small but clean. Carillo, the owner, charged me five coppers a day, which included the room, one meal, and stabling my horse. Over the next two days, I visited the general market, where I had a leather shirt and tights made, along with new sheaths for my sword and dagger. I talked to a couple of merchants about guard positions, but none interested me since they were primarily in Calle or the surrounding area.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CALLE: Duke Wetzel

  I woke to a banging on my door. Grabbing my sword, I got out of bed and approached the door.

  "What do you want?" I asked, in no hurry to open the door. It didn't bother me that I only had on a nightshirt—warriors didn't make an issue of nudity.

  "Message from Duke Wetzel," a man shouted in a deep voice. I opened the door, sword in hand but partially hidden by my leg. There were three soldiers standing in the hallway, swords in their scabbards, which I took as a good sign. "Are you Zara, the cook on Merchant Raigosa's caravan?" asked the older, broad shouldered sergeant, looking me up and down. The two men behind him were younger, taller, and grinning.

  "I'm that Zara."

  "The duke would like to see you ... now."

  "Can I get dressed first?" I asked, only partially in gest as the sergeant projected a sense of urgency. Dukes probably had that effect on people. I want it now meant you were already late in getting it, I mused but didn't smile.

  "Of course. We will wait out here. Don't be long. It’s a ways back to the castle," he said, confirming my previous thought. I closed the door, changed into my new leathers, added my wolf trim to my boots, sheathed my weapons, and opened the door to their shocked expressions. I locked the door and headed down the stairs, followed by the three men. The two young ones had their heads together whispering. Outside, there were four horses. I decided not to question how I would get back, or worse, joke about the duke giving me a horse. I swung up on the one with no gear and waited as they mounted.

  The ride was made in silence, but it gave me an opportunity to see the wealthier part of the city and the castle, which was surrounded by a granite wall twenty feet high and eight feet thick. We entered the castle grounds through a tunnel with two iron gates and guards at both ends. Inside, it looked like a small city, and in the center were a large courtyard and a six-story granite building that looked like it could hold hundreds of people. A small thin man stood at the bottom of the steps as we approached. His expression never changed, but his eyes evaluated me as we neared him.

  "Minister Niver, this is Zara the cook. Duke Wetzel asked us to find and bring her to him," said the sergeant, appearing happy to give me over. Niver nodded and waited patiently as I dismounted.

  "Zara, follow me," he said, and mounted the steps to the castle. Inside, he led me down a long hallway with life-sized statues, embroidered rugs, and paintings of scenes and people to a door guarded by two soldiers. As Niver knocked and entered the room, they nodded to him, and then they stood watching me like I was a loose viper in the hallway. Niver appeared shortly afterward.

  "Zara, the duke will see you now. You will address him as Your Grace, or Duke Wetzel, and don't speak unless asked a question. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Minister Niven. I understand," I said like a good savage. Better to appear stupid than to be stupid. I didn't need trouble, and I suspected royalty and their help could give you plenty if they chose.

  "Good. Give the guards your weapons," he said in a commanding voice. The guards probably made him feel secure. I unbuckled my belt with the sheaths and held it out. The older of the two guards took it carefully like it might bite. Niven then motioned me into the room. A grey-haired man sat behind a large wooden desk, evaluating me. It was a comfortable room with two cushioned chairs covered in tan-colored leather, a small table between the two chairs, and a bookcase filled with leather-bound books—a rare sight. He motioned to the guard holding my weapons, took each out of its sheath, and carefully examined it.

  "The Earl Pasquel didn’t like you, Zara. What did he want?"

  "To go and wipe out one of the tribes in the Black Mountains," I said.

  "And you refused to help, because?" He appeared genuinely interested.

  "The Ojaza tribe killed my mother and father as I watched, then made me a slave. I survived because I hated them more than life. I don't know the tribe in Earl Pasquel's section of the mountains, so I don't like or hate them. But Earl Pasquel seemed to think he could take his soldiers into the mountains and wipe them out. I wasn't interested in watching good soldiers die."

  "You think his soldiers would lose to a bunch of savages?" he asked, but not with a sneer as other royalty had.

  "The problem is that people think of the tribes as savages because of the way they live compared to them. So they think them stupid and incompetent. They may be stupid in our ways, but they are hunters, not gathers. Their warriors, which are the majority of the tribe, are better trained than your soldiers. They are also mobile, capable of surviving on the run. It would be like sending sheep to kill wolves."

  Wetzel withdrew my sword from its sheath. "You believe this short sword can match our long swords?"

  "Your soldiers are trained to fight duels. The tribe's warriors begin training as children and are excellent sword fighters, but they fight as a team and are content to cripple if they can't kill."

  "Is that what you did when your caravan was attacked?" He leaned forward, fingers tucked under the chin of his angular face.

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  Wetzel sat back, his hawk-like eyes watching me for a long time before speaking. "A baron of mine has asked me to take a group of soldiers into the Black Mountains. He lost a niece and nephew to a raiding tribe about a year ago. I guess you aren't interested."

  No, I'm not interested, you idiot. Weren't you listening? I wanted to scream but remained calm. This was a duke who could be nice or ugly on a whim, and he wasn't going to dismiss me as a savage or a child like Earl Pasquel. And I didn't need ugly.

  "If you want, I'll go look," I said.

  "How much?"

  "A few silvers to buy trail supplies and a letter to someone in authority to keep my horse and tack while I'm gone."

  "You aren’t taking a horse?"

  "A horse is a liability in the mountains."

  "You are risking your life for a few silvers, and you are going to free the girl by yourself?" He leaned forward again, his tan brow furrowed. "Doesn't sound right."

  "I'm not asking for money, because I’m not guaranteeing anything. I've said I'll go look. The girl and boy may have died on the way to their mountain camp. Thre
e of the six captured with me died on the way to the Ojaza camp. And if I find them, there is no way I could get them to safety with the tribe chasing me. It'll be a good two weeks’ travel from their camp to the lowlands."

  "You think you can talk to them?"

  "Maybe, but if they know the Ojaza and my story, they will kill me on sight and give my head to the Ojaza in exchange for horses or supplies."

  "Could you negotiate to pay a ransom for them?"

  "If they raided a wagon full of gold coins, they might pick up one as a trinket. Money is useless to them: can't eat it, or wear it, or make it into a good weapon. I might be able to trade them for mules or grain or something more useful than a slave."

  Wetzel laughed. "I can see why Earl Pasquel didn't like you: too practical and logical. Not one of the earl's strong points. Alright. Niven, give Zara ten silvers and have a letter drafted for me, authorizing the safe storage of her horse and gear and any assistance she may need, including raising a ransom."

  * * *

  I left Calle the next day, heading for the town of Redrock where the Baron Hillard lived. The town was located near the end of the Black Mountains but close to the foothills because the town's income came from mining. I made good time and arrived the morning of the fourth day and found the Baron's compound easily, as the town only had a couple of thousand full-time residents. When I asked to stable my horse and gear and showed the sentry my letter, I was informed the baron wanted to see me.

  A soldier led me to the three-story mini-castle, where an elderly man in a black suit met us and led me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway to a room guarded by two soldiers. After a short exchange with the older guard, I was admitted into a wood-paneled room with a desk and a table scattered with maps and scrolls.