Forsaken Hunters_Book Zero of The Age of Dawn_A Prequel

by Everet Martins

  Taji drew his barbed spear and laid it across his lap while Toshi placed his hands on his ornamented sword hilts. It all looked perfectly natural with a sprinkle of caution, the way anyone would greet a stranger on the road. She wanted to tell the unsuspecting traveler that they were killers. Taking another man’s life meant nothing to them. One wrong word and the driver’s blood would meet the dry earth.

  A woman traveling alone in this Dragon forsaken country. How had she survived this long without managing to become enslaved or worse? She had to be a slaver, Lillian reasoned.

  “Hello there!” the driver called, voice filled with hearty mirth. She gave an eager wave, slowing her carriage to stop about twenty paces away. A genuine smile spread up her face. The expression seemed so foreign. She stood in her chair and gave a slight bow, though never lifting her eyes from the Tigerians.

  She was stunningly beautiful. And clean. So wonderfully clean. There were few times when Lillian had felt even a measure of attraction for another woman, and this was one of them.

  The traveler’s eyes were a hard gray, set in a narrow face above a small nose and full lips. Her hair was a silky black with silver highlights that spilled over a jet-black corset trimmed with violent reds. Not very practical attire for the road, more appropriate for the bedroom. Lillian’s eyes traced down between her full breasts and to her hips, eyes locking onto a sheathed long sword with an ornamented guard. No ordinary traveler. What was her play?

  Her arms were latticed in an intricate opalescent armor that had to be Milvorian steel, the only metal capable of withstanding the onslaught of Dragon fire without melting. Shrouding her hands were gauntlets perfectly forged to their shape as if her hands had been used as a mold, the fingers tipped with talons that appeared very functional. Lillian’s eyes drifted to her legs, lingering between them, then stopping at rings of throwing daggers wrapped around her thighs. From her mid-thighs to her feet was a swirling line of Milvorian steel wrapping them in a protective shell. A Tower assassin? Perhaps a Scorpion from the far reaches of Zoria?

  “How does the road treat you?” the traveler asked in Common, gesturing while she beamed. She dropped the reins and vaulted over the edge of her cart, landing with a deft thump.

  The Tougeres raised their hackles, dropped low to pounce as a faint growled rumbled from their chests. Taji hefted his spear under his arm, directing it at her. Toshi followed his lead, half-drawing a scimitar from its scabbard.

  “Who are you?” Taji asked brusquely, like every word that emerged from his cat-mouth.

  The traveler raised her hands in a show of innocence, metallic talons gleaming in the fire of the rising sun. “Please, please, sirs. I come in peace. Your weapons offend my good tastes. Is this how you greet a fellow traveler?”

  Taji leaned forward in his saddle, peering into the traveler’s eyes for a long minute.

  She inclined her head and bobbed her eyebrows, never once breaking from his stare. Taji let out a satisfied grunt and leaned back in his saddle.

  The traveler came forward, lowering her hands to rest easily at her sides. The closer she came, the wealthier she appeared, her clothing and armor possessing layers upon layers of fine textures. The slaves huddled together at Lillian’s back, in fear or for warmth, she couldn’t be certain.

  “My name is Brenna, and this is Stanley,” she said, turning back to gesture at her horse who pawed at the ground in response to his name. His almond coat featured a luxurious cream colored mane that had been braided and tied off with intricate knots at the end. Who was this woman?

  “And you are?” She offered her hand to the Tigerians, neither of them taking it, regarding her with deadly stares. A Tougere snorted out a breath, torso flexing like a smith’s bellows. “Very well, I see formalities and pleasantries are beyond you, so I shall cut straight to business. I seek a pair of Tigerian slavers who are known as the Taki brothers. Do you perhaps know where I can find them?”

  The Tigerians drew their mounts a bit farther apart, creating a space between them in what might be the start of a pincer attack.

  “I know not of these brothers,” Taji said, each word coming out in a strained effort.

  “That is rather unfortunate,” Brenna said, boldly sweeping between the space they created. Her gaze flicked from each of their faces as she passed. “I am told they are moving a slave I seek to purchase. They were coming from the Golden Hill estate, not too far from here, I think.” She lifted the chin of the first slave in the gang, peering into his eyes, then turning his jaw to inspect his face like he was merely horseflesh. “Do you mind if I have a look?” She didn’t wait for an answer, moving on to the skeletal woman chained behind him.

  “These slaves are not for sale,” Toshi rumbled, his voice laced with threat.

  Brenna stopped, dropping her metallic hand from the second slave’s jaw and turned to look at him. “Well, everyone has their price, and I have no shortage of marks. May I?”

  Toshi opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Taji answered with a nod and gestured for her to go on.

  “Thank you, you are most kind,” she said with a pleased smile. Brenna made her way farther up the line, whispering questions to each slave that Lillian couldn’t hear.

  Brenna approached Lillian, finely manicured eyebrows arching up as she met her eyes. Her eyes were large, swimming with grays and flecked with bits of scarlet. They might have been kind had they not been on a slaver.

  Lillian found her jaw involuntarily flexing, fists balling tight as she took every measure of her self-control to avoid reaching for the Dragon. She crossed her arms and drew her blanket tight against her lithe form.

  Brenna brought her face within inches of Lillian’s, inspecting her. Brenna’s skin was flawless and without a single smear of dirt. She smelled sweet, like cinnamon and vanilla. “Calm, I mean you no harm,” Brenna whispered, voice raspy.

  Lillian noticed how foul she smelled next to her, the strong tang of weeks old urine wafting up from her nether regions. She didn’t want to remember how long it had been since her last bath. Back in the Tower, she bathed every day. She smelled good then. She would spend an hour combing her long hair and pinning it back with a diadem. But now she was a stinking slave.

  “Human slavers,” Lillian growled, then spat on her boots. It was a waste of precious water and would likely earn her a few lashes from Taji’s whip. It was worth it.

  Brenna peered down at her boot and scoffed. She slowly raised her hand and grasped Lillian under the jaw, the metal on her palm cold as ice, making her skin prickle. The metal of it was certainly Milvorian steel. “Are you Lillian Thorne?” she breathed.

  Surprise betrayed her, and her eyes opened wide before she could control them. “Maybe,” Lillian grunted.

  “For the sake of your freedom, it is critical that you speak the truth,” Brenna said, turning Lillian’s head to expose her ear and speak into it.

  Lillian pulled away and glowered at her. She sucked snot from her sinuses and into the back of her throat, preparing a nasty glob of spit for this scoundrel.

  “I’ll ask one more time. Are you Lillian Thorne?”

  “Yes,” Lillian hissed.

  “Do you know the Kuro brothers?”

  An opportunity? She gave a few quick nods, suppressing a shudder. They were her former taskmasters on the Golden Hill estate. Why did she want to know? She and Baylan were together for a brief time there, before she was once again torn away before she could say goodbye. It was one of many times where she was sold to a new master. Perhaps there was a chance to return to Baylan with this slaver.

  “What are you doing?” Toshi growled from the front. Brenna turned to give him an appeasing smile and a raised index finger, dropping it when she turned back to Lillian.

  “Can you tell me what they look like?” Brenna whispered, eyes peering deep into hers.

  Lillian nodded again, biting her inner cheeks to prevent herself from screaming. She could never forget the bastards.

&n
bsp; “Tell me,” Brenna prompted.

  Lillian stammered, her throat dry and unfamiliar with this much use. “The youngest is missing his middle finger, the oldest has a long scar over his right eye, the middle one… an arrogant shit.”

  The corners of Brenna’s lips rose in a gleeful smile. “I have searched long for you.”

  Toshi was padding up the line on his mount, sword whispering from its sheath to hang loosely from his hand. He stopped a pace from Brenna. “Tell you. These not for purchase.”

  Brenna’s hand was like lightning, sword ripping from its sheath and slicing across Toshi’s neck with a wet click. Blood poured in a wave from his throat, spilling on the Tougere’s head. In one continuous motion, her sword traveled onward like an artist’s brush, finding home in the Tougere’s gaping mouth and out the bottom of its throat. She withdrew her sword from its maw before its bear-trap mouth could slam shut.

  Slaves yelped and gasped, shuffling back as far as their fetters would allow.

  Toshi tumbled from the saddle, hands uselessly trying to staunch the flow of red from his throat. His Tougere slumped down onto its face, haunches raised into the air, fat tail smashing at the dirt.

  “Toshi!” Taji roared and charged. Lillian felt the roar of his Tougere rattling through her teeth.

  Brenna smiled and jabbed her sword into the earth, hands blurring to her legs, throwing daggers flashing in the morning light. One took the Tougere in the eye, the other passing through Taji’s neck like it was made of paper. Taji let out a screaming gurgle and flopped backward from his saddle as his Tougere bucked him off.

  The poor animal tried to paw the dagger free, but only managed to drive it further through its eye. Brenna tugged her sword from the earth and strode over to the Tougere, letting the blade’s tip trail a line in the dirt. She raised it high, hilt held in both hands, and slammed it mercifully down through the back of its thick neck. The Tougere let out a parting sigh as if it had finally found relief.

  Taji writhed on the ground, screeching and whimpering, hand clutching at his throat. It was a testament to his fortitude that he still lived.

  Brenna squatted down, looking him over. “I’m sorry for killing your Tougere. I didn’t want to hurt him, but you left me with no choice because you made him attack me. That was unwise, though your action was predictable.” She reached under Taji and retrieved her dagger which had apparently been pinned under his neck and placed it back in one of the two empty sheaths on her thighs.

  Taji tried to curse at her, blood bubbling out between his fingers.

  Brenna shook her head. “I can’t hear you. I’m afraid you’ll have to say it a bit louder and clearer.”

  Taji’s eyes narrowed with rage, words coming out in a flurry of angry gurgles.

  Brenna rose to her full height and pointed a scolding finger at him. “Now, will you stay quiet this time while I question your captive?”

  Taji rolled onto his side and blood spurted from his wound. She fished something small and metallic from Taji’s pocket and gave it a toss. It reflected the sun with a flash before she caught it again. Brenna sighed, then retrieved both her sword and her other throwing dagger from the Tougere’s eye after managing to pry it out with another.

  She marched back to Lillian, giving her a helpless shrug. Slaves stared at her with opened-mouthed wonderment. “Sorry about the interruption. Now, where were we?”

  Lillian’s mouth hung open. Was this a dream? Was this real? She almost thought to pinch herself.

  “Oh. I bet you’ll be pleased to see this!” Brenna chuckled and held up a key.

  “I—” Lillian’s breath caught as Brenna fell into a deep squat, removing the lock at her ankles, then rising up to remove the lock about her wrists. “Th-thank you. Why are you doing this? Why help me?”

  “I need you,” Brenna said flatly, her expression soft and welcoming.

  “My collar too?” Lillian asked, rubbing her wrists, the anticipation of once again seizing the Dragon almost too much to bear.

  Brenna arched an amused eyebrow at her and placed her hands on her hips. “Trust must be earned. For now, we’ll leave that on.” She gave Lillian a pat on the shoulder, her touch frozen. “Don’t want you burning me to cinders in a moment of rashness.”

  That was fair. Reasonable. Wasn’t it? It was the least she could do to appease her rescuer. But was this a rescue or was she falling into the hands of a new master? Possibilities raced through her mind. Freedom or imprisonment?

  Brenna unlocked the shackles of the man behind her, then handed him the key. The freed slave openly cried as he started working the locks off his brethren, muttering his thanks.

  She returned to Lillian, who shook out her legs. She grinned at the ability to once again move how she pleased after the chains horribly restricted her mobility. Her legs tingled. Where the shackles had wrapped about her ankles and wrists, the skin was red with weeping scabs from the sand that had wedged itself under the metal, every step scraping away minuscule layers of her flesh.

  “Feeling better?” Brenna asked.

  Lillian nodded, licking her stinging lips.

  Brenna narrowed her eyes. “I just need to confirm that you’re certain you can identify the Kuro brothers?”

  “I can do that,” Lillian said, meeting her eyes.

  “Wonderful.” Brenna grinned. “There is just one more thing to do then.”

  Taji groaned, scraping at the ground with one arm to drag his body towards his discarded spear, the other pressed tight against his neck. Her knife must’ve missed his carotid arteries. He was either incredibly lucky, or Brenna deadly accurate. Lillian guessed the latter.

  “You can have those if you want,” Brenna pointed with a taloned finger at the corpse of Toshi, assuming she meant the blades. “Anything on him too. I have some clothing you can wear that should fit.” She looked her up and down. “We’re about the same size, it seems. How fortuitous.”

  Lillian pressed her lips into a line. “Very well. Thank you, Brenna. I don’t know how I can repay you,” Lillian said, shaking her head with a swallow.

  “You shall soon find out.” Brenna turned to regard Taji, twisting her neck and producing a crack.

  Brenna slowly walked back to Toshi with a lofty gait. Her luxurious hair rose up like a flag in the wind. She reached behind her back and withdrew a notebook from under her belt and began writing. A moment or so later, she lowered the opened journal toward the choking Taji. “I just need you to sign this bill of sale for the slave called Lillian Thorne. Once you’ve signed, we’ll be on our merry way.”

  Taji gurgled a curse, fingers wriggling for his spear merely inches away.

  “No, no. I have to credit you for your persistence,” she said, kicking the spear away. “Sign here, and I’ll leave you be.” Brenna jabbed a quill into his hand and held the notebook near his face, pointing at a spot. He slightly lifted himself and managed to sign it, furry fingers trembling as they pressed into the quill.

  “Thank you,” Brenna said with a satisfied nod, stowing her notebook and quill under her belt at her back, then tugging down her corset to hide it.

  Lillian watched all of this while going through Toshi’s corpse, slipping on his sword belt and jerking the buckle tight. It felt good to be armed again. He had dried meat, an adequate pouch of marks, a hunting knife, and most importantly, boots. They, of course, wouldn’t fit, but her feet would heal with their protection.

  Brenna scowled and reached into a bulging pouch on the hip opposite of her sword. She tossed a handful of glittering marks on top of Taji’s wheezing chest, most of them rolling from it and forming a mound of gems in the dirt. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

  Brenna strode to the front of the now unshackled gang, who now huddled together, casting her with furtive glances. Lillian pitied them all, postures sagging under the weight of so many beatings. She would never be like them. If she died a slave, she would die proud and on her feet, spitting into the face of her captor. How qu
ick your tone changes, her thoughts scolded.

  “The way I see it, you have two choices.” Brenna clapped her hands and started brushing off imaginary dirt. “You could try to carry him to the nearest village, about eleven miles east and hope the governor doesn’t blame you for his wounds. Or kill him, take what remains of their weapons, clothing, marks, and food, then flee to the far north where Tigerians dare not tread, long past the Dread Temple.”

  Lillian blinked. Where would Brenna take her?

  The former slaves wasted no time, circling Taji and stomping him to death under their bloodied and battered feet. “Mercy!” Taji wailed in Common, the one word discernible.

  No mercy came.

  Two

  Dark Work

  Lillian and Brenna arrived in Varim by late afternoon, the sun high and searing. The village was small, maybe twenty buildings huddled among the vast wasteland of sand and scrub. The buildings were narrow and well constructed. They were made of thick planks whose lacquer had long been stripped away in the ravages of wind-blown sand. It appeared to be a vibrant beacon, drawing travelers in on worn roads that forked out from its central artery.

  They sat side by side in the seat of Brenna’s cart, entering under an archway fashioned of whitewashed bones with a Tougere’s skull for a keystone. The cart rumbled down the central road where buildings flanked them on either side. It was so strange to sit on a carriage instead of marching with the downtrodden. Lillian had hardly been a slave for a half-year, but it felt like a lifetime.

  They rode mostly in silence, exchanging only a handful of words. Lillian was grateful for it. She needed time to process the change, and Brenna didn’t seem eager for conversation.

  The long stretches of quiet made Lillian starkly aware of the weight of her collar, seeming to become heavier by the hour. Still a slave, but Brenna was no slave master. She was something else. But what? Her best guess was that she was an outlaw, a bandit. What did she want with the Kuro brothers? Did they have a sordid past? A personal vendetta? She wondered what she would have to do to get the last of her fetters removed.