A torch sparked alight in an enormous hand, followed by tens of others. In unison, the group let out a roaring battle cry as they charged down the sand dune. It would have been a fearsome sight had they been within the cart and not nearly a couple hundred feet away.
“Are they truly this foolish?” Lillian breathed.
“Shh. They have excellent hearing,” Brenna whispered, pressing a finger to her lips.
The group shrieked with rage as they drew close to the cart, echoing roars bouncing from everywhere. They fell in around the cart, circling it and whooping.
“Not the perfect finish,” Brenna moaned as they beat and gouged its beautiful walls with countless weapons.
“Find them! Murderous cunts! Think you have the run of my land, do you?” Garen screeched, his voice carrying on a breeze.
Lillian gave Brenna a questioning look. “Now?” She mouthed.
Brenna frowned and peered at the cart for a long second, then gave her a firm nod and a broad grin. “Do what you do.”
Lillian turned inward, grabbing the Dragon by the throat, and letting its fury tear through her heart. Her eyes flashed alight, brighter than the brightest of their torches. She slapped her hands together, fingers interlocking and arms outstretched in front of her chest. Her jaw clamped shut, teeth grinding down so hard it produced a creak. She gathered the Dragon in her heart, felt it swelling like a balloon that might burst from her ribs. When it felt like she could contain no more, she released it with a relieving gasp.
A beam of fire streaked the dark from their treetop, burning a line of gray in her vision. War cries became shrieks of terror. Shrieks of terror became an engulfing explosion as the cart turned into a ball of fire and then a rain of burning wreckage. Shattered wheels spun into the air, burning fabric flapped, severed limbs spun like kicked stones. The bodies of Tougeres were decimated into squelching strips, some tossed into the air as high as twenty feet before rolling across the sands. The burning head of a Tigerian soared in a great arc, thumping on the ground not more than ten feet from where they were perched.
Her fire roared like a pit of hell, reflecting like moons in her wide eyes. She found herself snickering, taking great pleasure in watching the slavers burn. Brenna gave an uproarious laugh, scrambling over to her side, and throwing an arm over her shoulder. “You’re amazing! Wait… there! An escapee!” Brenna pointed at a miraculous lone survivor, frantically heeling his Tougere.
“Garen,” Lillian observed, noting his once white suit had gone the color of wine. He hadn’t bothered changing for this little raid. He likely thought he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty. He likely thought that this would be as quick and painless as any other business endeavor.
“Care to do the honors?” Brenna offered, bow and arrow held in one hand.
“Got it.” Lillian followed his flight, guessing where he would be a second later and willing a fireball to materialize in his path. Her timing was perfect. Garen collided with her fireball, emitting a faint pop as it tore a gaping hole through his chest. Sparks and fire expelled from his back as he fell as dead as his brethren behind him. His Tougere bucked what remained of his corpse off, fleeing over the opposite dune. She guessed it would likely run itself to death from sheer terror.
“Incredible. You are truly gifted.” Brenna slipped away from Lillian’s side. She gave an admiring nod at the scene, stowed her bow and arrow over her shoulder, and placed a hand on her hip.
Lillian felt her eyes suddenly drooping, legs tottering beneath her hips. “Brenna. I need to rest. The Dragon takes my constitution, especially that much of it. Thank you, I suppose I can still do things once in a while. Going to climb down before I fall out of this tree.” She gave Brenna a parting smile, using the rope to carefully scale down the tree before slumping down to nap beside Stanley.
Lillian scraped the last of her oats from her wooden plate, flipped it up, and dragged it across her tongue. They were bland, but one did not complain about finally eating regularly. She sat on a rock that served as a makeshift stool, feet dangling an inch from the ground.
Brenna sat across from her on a rise of stone converging against a ten-foot wall of sandstone. Between them smoldered the last of their fire, used to heat the water for morning supper. A pot rested on a tripod of iron over the fire. Hooked on its edge was a blackened wooden spoon. The earth around the fire was choked with the husks of dense weeds. They were squat with needle thin leaves, seeming to thrive in this environment.
They ate in silence, watching the rising sun paint the world in its golden kiss. It looked like the start of a world consuming explosion, but its scourge wasn’t enough to strip the world wholly bare.
Stanley snorted beside them and started pawing at the ground. “Yes, yes. We’ll be leaving shortly,” Brenna said to him with a loving smile. He bowed his head, and she gave it a scratch.
“Feeling restored?” Brenna asked with a bob of her eyebrows.
Lillian looked up from her plate. “Me? Oh, yes much better, thank you.”
“Once you found your way down that tree, you were limp as Wandering Vine. Had to carry you onto Stanley’s back, though I doubt you remember any of this.”
Lillian felt her cheeks growing hot. “I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know who Baylan’s masters are?” Brenna asked, the suddenness of the question making Lillian flinch. Brenna set her plate on her lap, her spoon containing a single soddened oat.
Lillian sniffed, mouth hanging open for a second. “I don’t know who they are by name, but I can identify them by appearance.”
Brenna scratched her throat, eyes narrowed. “Baylan. A strange name. A Helm’s Reach name, is it not?”
Lillian swallowed. “It is. That’s where he grew up, the Phoenix side. He is an excellent healer. You’ve been to Helm’s Reach in Zoria?” She took in Brenna’s every expression, searching for confirmation of her suspicion that Brenna was from the northern reaches of Zoria.
Brenna gave a smile that revealed nothing. “I know of it. Would you like to hear a story? His name reminded me of one I always enjoyed.”
Lillian nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to hear a story.”
Brenna snickered, scrambling over to join her at her side at a neighboring rock of about equal height. “In the time before the Age of Dawn, there was a wizard who bore the same name as your lover’s, Baylan. His lover was captured by a band of monsters while harvesting carrots, and she was taken to the highest peak in the Mountains of Misery. There was an evil wizard who lived there. A Necromancer of the Old Magic.”
Brenna’s smile widened. “Then her hero, Baylan, came to save her. He had to scale the mountain alone and kill the Necromancer whose skill far exceeded his. But that wasn’t all nor the end of his trials. The evil Necromancer placed a trap before the prison where Baylan’s lover was held. He was forced to walk through fire, ravaging his flesh in order to reach her. Once there, the fire relented, and they were able to return home and live out their days to fruition.”
“I think I know how he must have felt.” Lillian licked her teeth.
“Yes. I thought you might. I know it’s not a very good story, but I like its message.” Brenna let out a long breath, turning to give her an appraising look. She reached into her pocket and produced a crisply folded piece of parchment held between two fingers. “This belongs to you now. Do with it as you will.” Brenna handed it to her.
Lillian looked into Brenna’s eyes as she unfolded it and thought she saw a touch of regret. It was her bill of sale. It didn’t surprise her to find that Brenna’s writing was neat and crisp. She felt her lips tremble but mastered them with a hard furrow of her brow. She grasped at a sliver of the Dragon and set the parchment ablaze. She stoically watched it curl down to ashes, fluttering over her boots.
“The nearest town is rife with Tigerian and human slavers alike.” Brenna bit her lower lip. “I can’t take you there in good conscience. And I can almost guarantee there are no shortage of Equalizer crystals among
their weapons. I’d like to propose that we work together for a time, threading our way north toward the free towns, and toward the coast.”
“The rumors are true then? There are settlements of free men in Tigeria?”
“Some. They are small… and far. Most run along the northern shores.”
Lillian looked into the sun, letting its brilliance blind her. “I like killing Tigerian slavers. I like your business.” Once she had some marks and some resources, it would be easier to pay for knowledge to find Baylan. She had to start somewhere, and as things stood, she had nothing but her freedom.
“Wonderful!” Brenna clapped her hands. “I am prepared to offer you a third of our bounty earnings.”
Lillian started to balk, but then remember that Brenna had done so much for her. She had to be grateful for what she offered. Without her help, she might’ve been still marching, maybe working another field in some distant corner of the realm. Perhaps being raped by a Tigerian.
“Very well. I accept.” They shook hands, but something nagged at her. She knew there was always a price buried somewhere.
“It will be great to have a partner,” Brenna said as she stood, stretching her arms overhead and letting her plate clatter to the ground.
Lillian flinched toward the plate, stopping herself in an instant. A lash-conditioned part of Lillian wanted to bend over and clean it. Thankfully, that part was almost all but withered.
Brenna caught the gesture though and regarded her with a sympathetic smile. “That life is over. You are a free woman now.” Wisps of black hair swept across her cheeks and around her throat.
Lillian nodded, peering down at her boots. A moment of silence stretched between them. “Why are you helping me?” she blurted, blinking at something wet in her eyes.
“I…” Brenna waved her hand, searching for the right word. “Feel compelled to help you. I feel responsible for ensuring the future of your freedom. To put you back in chains… couldn’t allow that.” Brenna forced a laugh and a smile, sitting beside her and throwing her arms around Lillian in a side hug.
Lillian leaned into her and placed her head on her shoulder. Her hair felt like luxurious silk against her cheek. Lillian let out a long sigh of relief, resting against her warmth.
Something cold lightly touched Lillian’s chin, lifting her head to peer into Brenna’s swimming eyes. Her eyes traced her face, hand rising up to stroke her hair and gently scratch her head. Lillian closed her eyes and purred with satisfaction. Brenna’s other hand slid down to her hip, pressing on her iliac crest. That was different, Lillian noted as her neck prickled with goosebumps.
Something hot and soft and full pressed against her lips. Brenna’s tongue lapped at the underside of her upper lip.
Lillian’s eyes snapped open with a gasp. “No!” she breathed, leaping to her feet. She took a stumbling step back, tripping over a stone and nearly falling onto her ass.
Brenna raised her hands. “I’m sorry! I thought—”
“It’s okay,” Lillian said, placing a hand over her mouth. She shook her head. “No. I apologize if I gave the wrong impression. My loyalties lie with Baylan.”
Brenna’s cheeks bloomed with burning blood. “It won’t happen again. Can’t blame a woman for trying, can you? Life on the road can be dry. I thought Tower women were… more liberal.”
“Most are,” Lillian snickered, bouncing an eyebrow.
Her body hummed, and for a moment, she wished she could be liberal too.
They reached Carnage by mid-day, another small outcropping of civilization struggling for life in this forgotten world. It was similar to Varim in most ways, the notable difference being that their wealth was produced through a few expert blacksmiths and horse handlers rather than tailors. The main street was chronically filled with the sonorous pings of metal on metal as if each smith were trying to deafen their every approaching customer.
Most important of all was the Arbiter’s station where Brenna turned in the bounty and the two fly-laden corpses of the Kuro brothers. The Arbiter was a wizened Tigerian who knew her by name and even shook her hand upon their arrival. She didn’t need to convince the Arbiter to give her the full bounty, her word enough to assure him the third was gone and dead.
Lillian had to admit that her reputation was impressive. Brenna collected a few outstanding bounties where the suspected locations of their targets would about intersect with their northern travel.
She forced Lillian to accept a third of the Kuro brothers’ earnings, even though the killing was done before their agreement. She reluctantly accepted, promising Brenna to repay her. She could use the marks. Her earnings were far more than she expected. Bounty hunting was indeed a profitable business.
Lillian went shopping. This time she properly paid for her wares from her own pouch as a free woman. It was remarkable how all her life she had taken that liberty for granted. She treasured the endless, open, and free sky.
Lillian purchased a new horse with the majority of her earnings, a stalwart charger with great slabs of muscle. The mare’s coat gleamed with the color of cream. She purchased a quilted blanket in a hue of red that matched her dress. Over it went a new saddle, the leather soft and the seams triple stitched. She bought a set of ornamented saddle bags resting over its rump, stuffed with fresh sundries for the road. She named her Kalli.
She used the last of her earnings to purchase a small sack of elixir beans, imported from Zoria. Once ground and brewed for five minutes, they would produce a dark liquid with a pleasing aroma of cinnamon and earth and tasting like home.
They rented a room together. Lillian enjoyed a glorious bath, cleansing herself of the grit and grime of the road. They shared a single bed, though nothing happened within its confines beyond sleeping and a pleasant chat about nothing. Lillian was relieved that Brenna had respected her first rejection and was a woman of her word.
They departed from Carnage before the sun crested the horizon, the world coated in a dim blue light. They trotted side by side on their respective mounts. They gave each other a quick nod, both breaking out into big grins. The free sunrise never looked more beautiful. Lillian realized she might have found a new friend. How long had it been since she had a companion she could wholly trust beyond Baylan? Too long.
The northern expanse was as flat as a pressed flourcake. In the great distance, bulbous dunes rose from the earth like the spines of a Sea Croc. Their peaks glinted as if dusted with gold in the new light. Lillian guessed them to rise almost five thousand feet, though it was difficult to be accurate with such a great distance. Trails of dust followed in their wake as they heeled their mounts into a plodding gallop.
Hours later, they ambled up a long sloping hill, the earth studded with gnarled and squat trees spanning no more than a few feet in height. The dunes were far behind them now, their tips a bleeding red with the dying sun. They made camp.
The next day, they slogged through an area with a low marsh. It drew wild packs of wolves, horses, and Tougeres from all around. Lillian was fascinated by a pack of Tougeres. There had to be at least a hundred of them, each big enough to easily consume a horse for a meal, though they showed not the faintest interest in either of them. There was likely more than enough food to go around with all the other animals about.
The marsh was hemmed in by a variety of foliage. Swaying grasses and trees reached as high as six feet, all seeming to thrive in the precious water. She asked Brenna where it came from, and she wasn’t sure. Baylan would’ve known. As long as Lillian had been here, she had yet to see it rain and wondered if it ever would. Within towns, she spied the odd rain barrel, but they were always long emptied, leaving white rings of minerals behind.
They set up camp away from the main body of water, finding a small pool where only nagging insects reigned. Lillian bathed after Brenna while she worked to gather wood for the night’s fire. She noticed the fullness to her muscles, and most importantly, her breasts had started to return with proper nutrition. It was nice to s
ee they had started to take on their usual fullness. Baylan would like that.
Lillian heard a familiar chuckle behind her. She turned to find Baylan in the water, his thick hair pushed back over his head. Water glistened like jewels from his cheeks. “Mind if I join you?” he asked with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Bay?” She blinked, and he was gone. She shook her head, mouth hanging open as her heart fluttered in her chest. I will find you.
Lillian crawled toward the apex of a steep hill covered in dead grass. Its hollow leaves crunched like bones against her elbows and knees. Brenna slinked up beside her, the bottom of her hair mopping up organic debris. Stanley and Kalli stamped at the ground behind them at the base of the hill, seeming to get along well enough. A refreshing breeze swept over them, dragging the tendrils of Lillian’s dress into the air.
“Shit!” Brenna hissed, snatching bits of her dress, and pressing them into Lillian’s grasping hands. “Have to be more careful.”
“Sorry,” Lillian mouthed, stuffing the tendrils under her arm.
The hill overlooked a small farm with enough rows of crops to feed a family, she reckoned. A lazy dog napped in front of a chicken coop, a dozen hens foraging around it. A Tigerian adult and a youth grunted as they worked a plow through a row of hardened earth with a Tougere at the front doing the majority of the pulling. A windmill beside a modest house turned and creaked.
The women watched in silence for about an hour, waiting for any other signs of life. It was a wise spot to start a farm. It was one of the lower points in the flatlands and apt to collect water from the hills that hemmed it in. Birds small enough to sit in her palm joyfully twittered on the hilltops, darting between shrubs with violet berries in their squat bills. Between the cool breeze and the hot sun, it was the perfect temperature. It was perfect enough to lull Lillian into a nap if she didn’t stay focused.
The Tigerian adult perfectly matched the sketch on the bounty. He hadn’t even bothered to trim the distinctive braids hanging from his chin. One ear was a mangled wreck of skin as if it had been burned, also matching the sketch according to Brenna.
Forsaken Hunters_Book Zero of The Age of Dawn_A Prequel Page 7
