Zara the Wolf

by C. R. Daems

  "What did it feel like?" Shelly couldn't help being curious, learning how things and people worked.

  "Like I was deep in a mine. It was totally dark, and there weren’t any sounds. And I had no feeling anywhere. Like my body had been disconnected from my mind."

  "Don't think I'd like that. She was going to stab you and leave?"

  "I think that was the idea. She knew I could identify her, so she either had to leave the castle or kill me. Apparently, whatever she was up to was more important than the risk of killing me." I fetched my bag and took out several of the herbs I knew would help heal the cuts, which were minor. Shelly tore up one of her silk night shifts and wrapped my arm.

  "Alright, how did you kill her? I kind of caught the last part of the struggle, and you didn't touch her—although she was trying to stab you. It was like she was fighting a ghost."

  "Close your eyes," I decided a small demonstration was the easiest way to explain it.

  She did.

  "Now imagine a man is standing twenty paces away. He has a club in his hand and is advancing on you. What do you do? Don't open your eyes. You can imagine anything to life, like a sword or rocks or wind."

  "I'd get a bow and arrow," she said, biting down on her lip.

  "He has a knight’s armor and a shield and continues toward you."

  "I mount a warhorse and charge him." She giggled with delight. We continued for several minutes before stopping.

  "That was fun. But that doesn't explain how you killed her. Those images can't kill."

  "Think of the images as being real. If I come at you with a club and swing it at your head and you don't block it or duck or otherwise avoid it, your mind will believe you were really hit with that club. If the blow would have been fatal, your mind will shut down. You will die just as if you had been physically hit with the club. Your mind and your opponent's are interpreting what is happening as if real."

  "Oh, and the girl?"

  "She eventually chose an armored man with a sword; I won because I understand sword fighting and she didn't."

  "So the bruising to the side of her face and head, a sword to the head?"

  "Yes. I've been lucky so far. Both of the Sirens had talent, but it was not only limited, but new. They hadn't had time to develop it fully. A Cheyo Monk would crush me in seconds. A Siren with a little more power would be an even match. Against one with any more power or experience, I'll need luck to survive."

  "The duke certainly doesn't expect you to kill them all." She looked at me wide-eyed, her face pale.

  "No. He only asked me to look." I laughed. "Identifying them without them identifying me and keeping our identity secret is turning out to be more difficult than it sounded before we left."

  * * *

  After the morning meal, the earl had a meeting with Shelly, the captain in charge of his security, and anyone involved in last night’s incident. The earl's security captain hadn't found anyone who knew the girl and had no idea how she gained entrance to the castle. He also reported that a Lady Hathorn had gone missing and thought maybe the girl had been sent to kill both ladies, although there was no obvious connection. Lady Shelly was from Redrock in Duke Wetzel's domain, and Lady Hathorn was from Monis in Duke Brodka's domain.

  Shelly sat quietly during the discussions, but I did notice an amused expression at times. I felt sorry for the guard at Shelly's room that night, the captain in charge of security, and the noble who lost the love of his life, but I couldn't help them without compromising what the duke had asked me to do. The earl reluctantly allowed us to leave the next day without a detail of his troops. Shelly assured him her detail was sufficient to handle an assassin if necessary.

  * * *

  The question was whether to risk the lower Broken Mountains Pass and go directly to Jqedit or bypass the Broken Mountains to the west and go to Castra first then up the Areva River to Jqedit. Although the pass was generally safe for a caravan our size, I told Shelly I didn't fancy fighting Indians in the mountains alongside soldiers used to fighting in the plains. She agreed and decided to go to Castra first.

  "Besides, Castra has a Cheyo Monk, so there won't be any Sirens around." She laughed. "You could use a rest."

  I agreed, concerned any attack on me put Shelly in jeopardy.

  We departed Muda early the next morning, following the coastline, which would eventually take us to Castra. The first night out, Eaton pulled me aside while the camp was being set up.

  "Would you mind a practice session tonight after dinner? I still don't think soldiers would do well using the Indian strategy, too disorganized. We like having control over our units. However, when the bandits attacked, I found it useful to use their non-standard fighting style. They weren't guarding against an attack to the legs or arms. They tend to guard against places we think of as killing zones. But I found a strike to someone's arm or leg, even if not disabling, is distracting and potentially opens him for a killing or disabling blow. And of course if he's bleeding, his endurance won't last long."

  "No, I'd welcome the practice. Lady Shelly's safety is as important to me as it is to you. The sharper we are, the better prepared we'll be in the event of another attack."

  "You expect another attack?" Eaton asked, frowning.

  "Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," I said, knowing another attack was likely with the growing threat from the Sirens. They wanted power but would need money to finance their activities. Robbery would be the easiest and fastest way, especially given their members’ talents. And there were several mountain ranges between here and Kariso with tribes. This was certainly the time of year for raids—they tended to stay put in the winter months.

  "Did I hear you and Eaton are going to fight?" Shelly asked as we sat drinking coffee after our dinner.

  "Practice, not fight," I said in response to her worried look.

  "I worry. He doesn't seem to like you."

  "He's used to being in charge, and it bothers him I'm not under his authority. He believes that makes it harder for him to properly protect you. Military people like order and control."

  "You don't?"

  "After being a slave, I like freedom."

  Shelly nodded but frowned. "Too much freedom can be bad. Phillip and I wouldn't have been captured if we hadn't been allowed to do what we wanted. Our guards certainly warned us enough times ... and they would be alive today." Her eyes filled with tears with the last words. Just then, Eaton approached.

  "Ready, Zara?"

  "Yes, I can certainly use the exercise," I said, rising with my practice sword. Eaton laughed.

  "You run as often as you ride your horse."

  "The Indians run miles every day as part of their training. It becomes habit forming."

  "And keeps you in excellent condition. I've been tempted to make the troops do a little each day, but it would probably kill them." He snorted.

  We walked several hundred paces away from the camp to a small clearing and were followed by most everyone who wasn't busy with duties. We faced each other and nodded our readiness. Eaton attacked in a flurry of blows that I blocked and then backed away a few steps. Thinking of the fight with the mercenaries, I closed my eyes and sought mental sight. The image of the man attacking me had been slightly different than the Siren's illusions. That could be important in any future encounters. Eaton was there in the blue haze but somewhat less solid than the images the Monk or Sirens projected, the opposite of what logic would have indicated.

  Eaton lunged forward with a powerful attack to my waist that I caught in my guard, although the force of the blow slammed the flat of my sword blade into me.

  I stepped back, lifting my sword and his up over my head and then rotated causing his trapped blade to twist his wrist throwing him away from me. Had I continued twisting, it would have snapped his wrist.

  "Damn that special guard of yours. Locks the blade unless I pull back and then I'm vulnerable to a counterattack," he swore as he pressed another attack.

&
nbsp; I felt faster but knew I wasn't. Somehow, with my eyes closed my mind seemed to identify his attack faster, which made my counter quicker, or conversely, I recognized an opening sooner.

  "Enough," Eaton said with a laugh. "I'm tired even if you aren't. I think I'm going to start running alongside my horse instead of riding. Thanks, that was a good workout. A couple of times when we backed away, I thought you had your eyes closed. Obviously you didn't or were faking it, because you didn't miss a beat when I attacked."

  "Squinting, the fire was distracting," I said, noting I would have to be more careful in the future as the feeling was enchantingly seductive.

  "You did have your eyes closed," Shelly said with a giggle, her head close to mine as we walked back to the fire pit.

  "I was trying to determine the difference between illusion and reality when I'm in that ... other state," I said, not sure what to call that reality when engaged with the Monk or a Siren. Other didn't quite fit, but I wasn't sure what adequately explained it—not quiet or mental or blue, although that was the color I saw.

  "Did you? Does it matter?"

  "I think so. Ironically, the real people look faded while the illusions look crystal clear and real. And yes it does matter. While the Siren and I are fighting, real things are still happening. That's how I got cut. The girl was quite clever. She hid herself inside her illusion, so my mind would perceive it if the illusion cut me, but if the girl really cut me, my mind might not. I could've bled to death not knowing I had been cut," I said, fascinated by the complexity, one I was having to master by trial and error. Students at the Cheyo School spent years learning it. I’d had a two-week crash course.

  "Enough for tonight. You're giving me a headache." She laughed as she turned to go to her tent.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CASTRA: Duke Dewan

  The next four days were much the same: morning meal, ride until early afternoon, stop to rest the horses, have a quick snack, relieve ourselves, ride to sunset, dinner, and to bed. We made good time, as the land was mostly prairie with gentle rolling hills, with no thick forest or rocky trails. Off to the west we occasionally saw the ocean and to the east the Broken Mountains growing in the distance as we got closer to Castra. I missed the mountains. I had spent a good part of my life in them. They hadn't been good times, but the mountains weren't to blame. Besides, they had made me what I was, and I wasn't unhappy with the result. After noon on the fifth day, we crested a hill and saw Castra sprawled out along the shore of a large inlet of glistening blue water. Boats of every size were anchored in the harbor, and several were coming or going with their brightly colored sails blossoming in the wind. The stink of fish was in the air. Just then, Eaton rode up beside Shelly and me.

  "I'm glad to see Castra: no bandits, no Indians, the caravan safe, and a nice clean bed." He grinned. "What about you, Zara?"

  "I can do without the bandits and Indians, but I'm still working on becoming civilized, living in a permanent building, eating rich foods, and trying to figure out where I fit in."

  "Yes." Shelly laughed. "Indian life is simple: no money, no nobility, few jobs, limited symbols to learn. But not easy."

  I said nothing because there was nothing to say that anyone would understand. To Shelly, the difference was night and day. She had led a privileged life before being captured and made a slave. To me, civilized life was hard, especially for the poor. Most help in a castle was little better off than an Ojaza slave and the nobility less accountable for their actions than a warrior. The tribe had unchanging rules; the nobles made up rules to fit each occasion. It was midafternoon when we reached the castle walls—the city had none—and Shelly was again expected. I wondered if word of a noble's travel plans were sent by bird every time he or she traveled.

  "Welcome, Lady Shelly. I'm Minister Harris. We have your rooms ready. Is there anything you'll need during your stay?" said a distinguished-looking elderly man as Shelly dismounted and handed her reins to a young boy. Harris wore a purple band with silver trim and a large engraved medallion hanging from a gold chain.

  I smiled mentally. The Indians didn't value gold, since it was a soft metal and therefore of little use for what they considered important: knives, swords, and tools.

  "Elana will take care of your needs while you are here." He nodded toward a young blonde-haired girl standing off to the side, looking poised for action. She curtsied. "And the duke has requested that you and your ladies dine with him tonight, if you aren't too tired from the trip."

  "Thank Duke Dewan, we would love to join him for dinner," Shelly said.

  As if on cue, Elana moved forward. "Lady Shelly, if you will follow me, I will show you and your ladies to your rooms and get you settled. Your luggage will be delivered shortly." In the room, she helped get the luggage unpacked and put away, collected the clothes we considered dirty, and disappeared with them. A half hour later she appeared with several other girls carrying hot water, soap, and towels.

  While Shelly's ladies helped her wash and get prepared for dinner, I sat pondering how I could get in touch with the Cheyo Monk. I assumed Duke Dewan knew Duke Wetzel had sent someone to investigate the Sirens, but I felt I had to be careful. If he knew, then I didn't need to tell him; if he didn't, then I probably shouldn't. I hoped the Monk would enlighten me, if I could contact him.

  "You had better get ready; we only have an hour before dinner," Shelly said, breaking into my musing. I smiled. A noble woman needed a couple of hours to get ready; I needed maybe ten minutes. "Go ahead and smile, you don't have to have your hair fixed, your nails trimmed, your face painted, and on and on," she said, correctly interpreting my smile. I nodded acknowledgement and began undressing for a wash as her ladies ran off to get themselves ready. They returned with Elana about ten minutes before the dinner hour, and we made our way to the dining hall.

  At least a hundred people were beginning to take their assigned seats. Shelly was given a place at the main table to the left of the duke, who entered shortly after we did, with two guards, one pushing a Cheyo Monk in a chair with wheels. The Monk appeared small but was indistinguishable in his or her oversized robe and hood. The duke by comparison was a large man in height and girth with a full beard and mustache, a pug nose, and bushy eyebrows.

  "Sit," he roared as he approached the main table. Off the main table, there were two long tables arranged like a squared-off letter C, leaving an open area in the center for servers and entertainers. I was seated at the first chair on the leg closest to Shelly. The duke was a widower, according to Sarkis and Musa. His wife had died a year ago of some mysterious illness. He had two daughters aged twelve and fifteen and a son, eight. Only his eldest daughter was seated at the main table, next to Shelly. After the meal and dessert, drinks were replenished and entertainment arrived: a juggler, magician, and musician. After the incident at Ayus, I tried to pay more attention to the people at the three tables, although with a Monk in the castle I doubted there were any Sirens—with a cat present one wouldn't expect any mice.

  As the duke rose, signaling an end to the dinner, I felt the presence of the Monk and quieted my mind. The room turned blue and the people faded as the Monk appeared sitting naked in a small stream, humming. She looked young and innocent sitting with the water bubbling around her and a smile of contentment on her face. She looked up and nodded.

  "Welcome, Zara the Wolf. From the rumors, you have had an interesting trip," she said. "Come to my room around midnight, and we can share information."

  The blue fell away and I jumped up to follow Shelly, who was walking with the duke. In his office, the guard closed the door and Shelly handed him the letters from Duke Wetzel. He poured himself a glass of wine and some berryjuice for Shelly before sitting and pointing to chairs for us to sit. Then he opened the letters and began reading.

  "Interesting. I like Duke Wetzel, but a young noble woman and a woman who lived with the savages appear to be strange choices. Why you, Shelly? You're very young, and this could be very dangerous."<
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  "Zara needed a cover story, and I volunteered. I don't know whether you heard, but my brother and I were captured by the Sheqn Indians and made slaves. Zara is the one who freed me. I trust her with my life. Besides, I decided this would be good training for me when I'm older."

  "She freed you for money," Dewan said, frowning.

  "Yes, all of ten silvers," she said with a straight face, although I could see the humor in her eyes.

  "Ten silvers? That's a story I have to hear. Zara?"

  "Your Grace," I said to give me a minute to decide what to say. "Duke Wetzel had heard I’d been a slave of the Ojaza ... " I recounted the story, trying to keep it brief, but the duke kept probing for more details. In the end, I had to include part of my life with the Ojaza.

  "Monk?" Dewan turned to the Cheyo Monk sitting in the corner.

  "Zara speaks the truth. She is what she claims to be, and I believe she has Cheyo potential."

  "It appears Duke Wetzel is as shrewd as I've always believed. You are not only the right people to investigate the Sirens, but also the least likely to be suspected. Stay as long as you wish. I will give you a letter with my seal to ensure you have no problems on my lands."

  It was late when we got back to Shelly's suite, and I was exhausted from trying to keep my answers truthful while limiting the personal details. By the time Musa and Sarkis finished helping Shelly get ready for bed it was close to midnight.

  "I have to go see the Cheyo Monk. He wants to see me at midnight," I said, as Shelly crawled into bed. "Hopefully it won't take long, since he's heard my whole story."

  I found the Monk’s room easily, as it was in the duke's wing. The door was slightly open.

  "Come in, Zara, and sit." Her voice was a soft whisper but easily heard. I entered, closed the door, and sat opposite her where she pointed. Immediately the room disappeared and she appeared naked sitting in the middle of a gently moving stream, which looked to be located high in the mountains. "My favorite place where I was born and grew up. You need a place like this, Zara. It helps to quiet the mind quickly and grounds you like you’re a giant tree thousands of years old with hundreds of roots sunk deep into the earth."