by Lawrence, J.
Thaniel’s face twisted into a grimacing grin and he nodded affirmatively. Clearly, both Jorel and Thaniel thought the profane man was funny. They had a hard time stifling laughter.
The ox’s ears flickered toward the boarded up manger, where Harkanin’s beasts were penned up. Elycia smiled. He was miffed about being yoked and hungry while they were eating already. She suspected it wasn’t the only reason the ox couldn’t wait to be on the other side of the walls. Her head swiveled, eyes peering into the woods, expecting to see the eyes out there again. But all she saw was blackness. Whatever had been tracking them was long gone, at least for now.
“You’re the Caller. You talk to him.” Jorel said as he nimbly slid off the cart and started to unhitch the cranky old beast.
“Don’t start with that Caller stuff again.”
“You prefer master? How about The Free-erer of the Lowly Slaves? Or…”
“I’m going, just shut up…” Thaniel raised his hands in surrender and headed for the door.
“Take her with you, before she pukes on my boots.” Then he bowed apologetically with a majestic flair toward Thaniel and added, “My sincere apologies, Great Owner of the Blonde!” Jorel boomed, lowering his chin and pursing his lips comically. He opened his mouth wide as if threatening to continue. He wasn’t going to stop until they moved faster.
“Owner!” Elycia said through grit teeth as she slid off the bench toward Jorel with a fist already clinched. Then just as she thought she would connect with his jaw, Jorel dodged her effortlessly, leaving her swatting at air. The force of her wild swing pulled her off balance and she felt her feet slip on the slush. Thaniel grabbed her arm before she fell headlong into a tree bole.
“I’m fine.” She said a little too quickly, and at the hurt look in his eye, immediately regretted it.
“I see. You wanted to slam your face against a tree.” He said defensively.
“Just drop it.” She said, motioning towards the keep.
“You can’t let him get to you like that.” He offered quietly while Jorel stuck his tongue out over his shoulder.
Thaniel’s timing was flawless. The moment Jorel stuck his tongue out Thaniel tossed a snowball over his shoulder, hitting him square in the face. Jorel was doubled over trying to get snow out of his nose when they slipped into the keep.
The keep was four stone walls packed with earth and dry pine needles for mortar. It was covered by crisscrossing timbers and more earth for a ceiling. Three of the walls were lined with sleeping pallets, which were nothing more than hand sawn planks worn smooth by years of use. A rough fireplace occupied most of the fourth wall.
“You comin in or movin on?” Samial Harkanin asked without looking up.
“We’ll stay the night.” Thaniel spoke up. He was good at that. Doing the right thing at the right time. “If it’s alright with you, that is.”
“Nobody owns the keeps. But I wouldn’t be movin on tonight. Wolves been actin strange… damn things like the night too. Best hold up here till morning.”
Wolves!
She hadn’t actually seen them, but now that the trader mentioned it, she was sure that the yellow eyes in the dark belonged to wolves. A lot of them… She’d heard that wolves avoided people. This pack didn’t seem to care about what she’d heard. They were definitely tracking them. Elycia shook her head. What did she know about wolves? Before today, she’d never actually seen one up close. Come to think of it, she still hadn’t.
Samial Harkanin sat on one of the pallets near the fire. A pile of firewood was strewn across the floor. He was stirring a black pot nestled at the edge of the coal bed. A pheasant crackled on a spit that he turned with an ingenious foot pedal. He was a big man, hardly starving. The way his tongue touched the edge of his lips as he meticulously tended to his meal, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. Bella had been right. He really did live for dinner.
“They were out there.” Thaniel said casually. She thought she was the only one that noticed them. “I didn’t want to bring it up. You had enough with being sick and all.”
Of course, as if she couldn’t handle any more. Always protecting the little girl. It was infuriating and charming all at the same time.
Samial Harkanin looked up. Recognition dawned on his face as he regarded Thaniel.
“The messenger?” Something else flashed across his eyes too... was that fear? “What in…” He glanced at Elycia and continued without the curses that always adorned his speech, “are you doing out here? If Ontar finds you with me…” Samial Harkanin knew just about everyone. She wasn’t surprised the old trader would recognize him. Most everyone knew the hold’s messengers by sight. But he was right to be afraid. Escaped slaves were always brought back to Ontar Hold, but they were never alive, as well as any who helped them along the way.
“We were freed this morning.”
The old trader’s face screwed up in unbelief, but he allowed, “Freed? Never heard of Ontar freein anyone?” His brows furrowed in thought and he added, “I guess so. Wouldn’t have made it out the gate with a cart and all…” more muttering under his breath, “bastards would have cut you down before you got ten feet into the woods.”
“We are going to Navillus.” Thaniel announced.
“Navillus. My eyes! Three kids, an old ox, and a cart I sold to Ontar fore any you were born…” Harkanin laughed until, with a sizzle, he burned his finger on the pot, and after a few vile words, stuck it in his mouth. “If that cart makes it down the pass, you still have to cross the plains, and buy river passage down the Fiss.”
She knew Fiss was a river she’d forded with her father a few times but couldn’t remember exactly where it was.
“From there you need more passage cross the Cut.” That was what most called the Blue Sea. “Five years work to afford all that.”
“We can ride.” The thought of that almost made her throw up on the spot.
“Uh-uh.” He chuckled. “Better off eat that old ox and die right here.”
She felt her face flush. The contemptible man, with his pointed nose and bristly eyebrows, reminded her of a plump rat. Tristan had given them enough money to go anywhere they wanted, twice.
She was about to rip into him. He deserved it too. She’d tell him… Then she noticed it had gotten awfully quiet in the room. Thaniel looked at her sideways, annoyed. Her skin tingled. Before she realized it she took half a step back.
“You got your hands full, messenger.” Harkanin chuckled with a nod in her direction.
How dare he…
The door slammed shut behind them.
“You don’t know the half of it dirt bag.” Jorel strode in like he owned the place and plopped down next to Samial Harkanin. He grabbed the spoon right out of the pot and slurped a mouthful of whatever was stewing inside it. Jorel winced, fanning in front of his mouth and sucking in air to cool it off.
Harkanin started bellowing, slapping his thigh.
“Sam,” Jorel fanned furiously, “There’s enough pepper in this…” he sucked in air through pursed lips, “to fry all nine hells.”
“You know I like it like that.” The trader explained, throwing his hands in the air, fingers stretched wide.
“Me too.” Jorel replied with a goofy grin, eyes already watering, “Me too.” He repeated as he shoved another spoonful in and started the whole fanning thing all over again.
“So, you still hanging around this one?” The trader thumbed at Thaniel.
“Yeah, I can’t shake him.” Jorel flicked the empty spoon in the air a couple times for effect. “It’s getting worse too.” He said, conspiratorially leaning over to the man, “Now there are two of them.” He thumbed in her direction. “Hard to believe she’s more irritating than he is, but she belongs to him, so we’re stuck with her.”
Elycia felt her face go flush.
“See?” Jorel said while Harkanin laughed heartily.
Thaniel just shrugged, loosened the drawstrings on the sack he brought in with him, and threw
a piece of hard bread at Jorel, who caught it out of the air and bit into it spitefully.
“Not falling for the same trick twice in one day.” Jorel said as he bit into the bread with a crunch. “Listen, Sam,” Jorel went serious, “Bella said you knew the way to Navillus.”
“Bella? Now there’s a woman a man could sell his wagon for…” The trader started.
“Don’t start.” Thaniel said with a grimace.
“What do you say, Sam?” Jorel prodded, “We can pay.”
“How much?” One bushy eyebrow rose quizzically.
In moments the three of them were ladling out of the wretched smelling pot, slicing off meat, and breaking out provisions, haggling a price, and ignoring her completely. Elycia’s stomach growled and threatened to heave again all at the same time. In complete misery, she grabbed a blanket and plopped on one of the rough hewn sleeping pallets before she remembered what a day on the cart had done to her backside. She settled for lying down instead.
Before long the three of them were trading barbs and chatting about nothing. Everything from the price of tea to the unusual weather… The kind of useless talk men were accustomed to. She tugged the blanket over her head and rolled her face back to the stone wall.
This was going to be a long trip.
Chapter 21
Sacrifice
In the wild the dra would eat two hundred weights of evergreen a day. It didn’t care what type of evergreen. Trees, bushes, or even shrubs would all suffice.
However, if its normal diet was withheld, eventually it would consume other things. Leafy foliage would be its next choice. On a steady diet of that the beast could survive for a couple months before it would begin to weaken and eventually die.
Yet, according to the book, after a period of just one day of not eating any kind of plant life, the beast’s strength would start to wane. After just three days of hunger the beast would be ready to eat anything.
Even meat.
The three days of waiting that the book required nearly drove Lisella Ontar mad. The hold was a busy place to begin with. There was barely a moment in the stretch of a day that didn’t see her having to make some sort of decision. What was left of her time she spent planning with Irkhir, meticulously going over what needed to happen next. Yet, even with as much as there was to occupy her every waking moment she found herself growing more impatient by the minute.
Lisella stole a glance at the chain moorings to make sure that they had been reinforced, not wanting to think about what would happen if the dra ripped free before they completed the process.
The First all watched her with detached fascination. Wondering if they had all placed bets on her resolve, she forced a grim smile. Whoever wagered against her this day would find his purse lighter.
Irkhir’s eyes whispered encouragement, the only kind he was given to, reminders of her father. She recalled his words from only hours ago and steeled herself for what was to come. Weakness was repaid with death in the land of her fathers.
At her signal men with bulging arms began wrestling cranks. With loud metallic clacks, the walls of chain loosened, allowing the dra to stand an inch at a time. Once it had enough room the creature flexed its muscles and unfurled its powerful wings. It lowered its head and crooned at the close chain ceiling. There was no room for it to launch and it knew it.
Lisella walked around the enclosure, examining the dra. It was mostly blue, except for a few colored ridges around its eyes. Although it was noticeably paler than its first night of captivity it was still the color of the sky. Smooth overlapping scales glittered down its belly, neck, and legs, while its head was covered in tightly stretched skin. The colored ridges jutted up around the sides and over the tops of its solid blue eyes. There were no pupils but somehow it felt like the creature watched her as she walked.
“Now, Mistress?” Irkhir stood, legs planted wide, axes hanging from his hips. His armor gleamed, picking up the blue light that reflected off the creature’s scales.
What was about to happen, had to. In the end, no matter how distasteful it was, it was for the good of all. Yet, that didn’t mean she had to like it. She wasn’t about to stand for anyone ever liking this part of her destiny.
Lisella took the scene in. The entire company of the First, her finest soldiers, was gathered at the top of the tower, surrounding the walls of chain in a ring of crimson weave and polished armor. All but one of them stood with faces that could have been carved from stone. All except one. The man grinned in what could only be some sort of twisted anticipation.
Keriim.
He was a disciplined and experienced soldier who had a vicious bent. As one of her personal guard, Irkhir had always insisted it was a good quality. Squeamishness could get her killed if her assassin turned out to be an old lady. Yet, in this he should have known better.
She had already decided what she would do if she saw one of her men smiling this day. Lisella Ontar flourished, letting her flowing gown disguise her movements. She drew her knife. With a flick of her wrist that Keriim never saw coming she sliced across his forehead. Blood streamed from the cut, momentarily blinding him, giving her all the time she needed to dance clear. By the time he blinked his eyes open Irkhir and the rest of the First already had axes out.
“My Mistress, if I have displeased you…” His words were hollow, lacking the feeling he should have held for her. But he didn’t hesitate in falling to his knees, forearms pressed to the smooth stone floor in supplication. With his head bowed he acknowledged the axes that only a nod of her head would bring raining down on him. She waited, watching the man take breaths in a slow deliberate rhythm. She didn’t speak until a small pool of blood had formed beneath the man’s bleeding bent head.
Like a curious dog, the dra tilted its head from side to side. It eyed the bleeding Keriim. The beast swished its tail back and forth in soft whirs. It hissed through needle sharp teeth. The sound that sliced neatly through the air reminded Lisella of the whisper of a blade leaving the scabbard for the first time. With vicious intent the dra darted toward Keriim. It pressed against the chain wall and tasted the air with its tongue. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard.
Every man stood silent.
“Rise, Keriim.” She said. “You will live to be of service to me.” Then she held out her hand and he kissed it on both sides as she added to all of them, “Every one sacrificed here does Ontar a service that can only be repaid in the next life. I will not see their gift sullied.” She paused to scan the men of the First, stopping to peer through the wolf’s head helmet into Irkhir’s eyes. Behind the long steel fangs that stretched across his face, the man’s stare was so cold it made icicles seem like summer pudding. But she knew that look and the barely imperceptible nod he afforded her. Yes, it was what her father would have done.
“My ancestors named the fiercest of Ontar’s warriors, First, eons ago. In the time of the ancients, you were the first to receive the blessing of the blood of Ontar.” She paused to let it sink in, watching as a few of the men looked around between themselves. Like her they had all assumed that it meant that they died first, before her.
“In time we have lost much of what used to be, but, yes, this is why you have always been named such. You, above all else, owe them everything you have, in this life, as in the next. On my soul, if I ever see any one of you enjoy the sacrifice of these innocents,” She paused to level her glare at Keriim’s bleeding forehead, “I will feed you to the dra instead.”
Every axe handle thumped the stone in unison.
“It is time.” She replied without betraying a hint of the disgust and rage she was already feeling about what needed to happen next.
A young girl was gently brought forward. She wore a red blindfold that had two white lines painted on it. The lines across her eyes and the small crimson slip of a smock she wore were both a symbol of the purity of her soul.
“You may remove your blindfold child.” Lisella informed her.
A small te
ntative hand reached up and pulled down a corner of the fine cloth. When the girl saw Lisella Ontar standing in front of her she immediately curtsied, as was proper, even if it was clumsy. Her eyes looked oddly familiar to her. They were simultaneously both warm and cunning, and sparked with deep intelligence.
“Stop child. It is I who should bow to you.” Lisella inclined her head and the small girl’s jaw dropped as suddenly as if the ligaments that held it up were sliced with a razor.
Weakness was repaid with death...
The little girl quickly recovered. Lisella watched as her lips snapped shut and her eyes filled with alarm. She had good instincts, sensing danger long before it was upon her. Big eyes darted about trying to make out why she should be afraid.
Lisella made eye contact with the unlucky soldier who drew the double dotted lot. He shifted into position behind her.
“Your sacrifice will be repaid in the next life.” Lisella intoned as she nodded to the unlucky soldier holding a long catchpole. Right about then the little girl caught sight of the dra. She burst into uncoordinated motion, stumbling backwards in a vain effort to get away. But it was too late. The soldier tightened the noose on the catchpole an instant before she moved.
Lisella forced herself to breathe in and out, ignoring the pleading eyes of the young girl as she was dragged back kicking and screaming. The crimson clad soldier stood, his shoulders hunched over and his chin down. He stopped in front of her with the girl kicking at the end of the pole. He said nothing. Just paused and looked at her, eyes questioning, his unspoken plea almost as ardent as the girl’s.
“What are you doing?” The little girl cried. “What did I do?” She pleaded, her feet churning uselessly beneath her.
“Your sacrifice will bring a new era of power to the lands of Ontar. Your name will be sung for all time in our halls.” Lisella bowed reverently instead of crumpling to the ground and crying. This had come to her. She would see it through.
“Damn you Ontars. Save your scraping for my brother. He’ll kill you for this. Gut you like a pig. Damn you all to nine he…lls.” She flinched as the catchpole noose cinched tighter around her neck, forcing the spit she had intended for Lisella’s face to dribble instead down her own chin.
