The Tuskan Prince (The Caine Mercer Series Book 2)

by Cale Madison

  “Brunson, sir.”

  “Ah, then you must be overjoyed, being stationed so close to them! That’s but a day’s ride from the palace! Must be nice, being able to watch them grow up, never missing a moment.” he said, growing closer to Ivan with each step.

  “I’m very fortunate, sir.”

  “Good, because I have the power to have you stationed so far in the Further, the next time you’d see your boys is when they’re old enough to be drafted.” he warned, flashing his white teeth, “You’d be wise to count your blessings while you have them, Ivan.”

  The errant then replied with a stern face, “I understand.”

  “I would never ask you to blatantly disobey your king, Ivan, but I am his Hand and I’m telling you that this is for the good of our country. One day, you’ll understand. Now, make sure that prisoner is sent off with escorts that you trust. It’s a three day’s ride to Fortaare, and the message must be delivered.” Gavin said, his icy words lingering in the damp air, “Our future depends on it.”

  Ivan nodded and backed away, allowing the Hand to begin his departure as he repeated, “For the good of our country, Ivan. Remember that.”

  ***

  We hadn’t crossed but a handful of hills before we suddenly overheard some commotion from a small patch of woods nearby. I could hear the gruff chatter of men and the shrieking of some child echoing from beyond the trees. I gestured to Skalige, who withdrew his sword and dismounted his horse. We tied their reins to an old willow before venturing into the woodland.

  Within the confines of this grove, we discovered an unpleasant sight: four men had their hands wrapped tight around the slender arms and legs of a tiny being, beating it senselessly into the mud. One man stood above it with bloodied knuckles and a twisted scowl on his face. The malnourished creature, with its teal-colored skin and large, blue eyes, cried out in pain as each fist hit its mark. It appeared to be nearly identical to a frail child with massive ears and spots lining its shoulders and neck. The other four cheered the brute on, laughing as the blue thing fought to breathe with its face buried in the watery soil.

  “The hell is this?” I called out, interrupting the fiasco. The man delivering the punches cocked his head towards us and replied, “Mind your own business, boy.”

  “What has this creature done?” I asked them.

  “The bloody fuck you care, anyhow? Leave us be.”

  I noticed the tears falling from the small monster’s eyes as he glanced upon his captors knotting a taut rope to form a noose. He trembled and shrieked, gagged by a shred of cloth wedged into his mouth.

  “Hardly seems fair, passing judgement on the defenseless.” I snapped.

  “Good lord, you’re still here? This matter doesn’t concern you, drifter!”

  “You lay one more finger on him and I’ll take it from your hand! We are trained fighters with swords, appointed by the King, himself, whereas you carry pickaxes and wheat-cutters,” Skalige replied, crudely, “and our time is valuable! What crimes did this tiny thing commit?”

  The man wiped his hands on his brown trousers, smearing blood along the linen and explained, “Three days ago, I saw we were missing chickens from our farm. Goats started disappearing and our fattest cows turned up, half-eaten. Caught this critter sneaking eggs, knew he had to be the culprit. When we caught him, he put these strange visions in our heads. It’s witchcraft! Too many have begun disappearing from the village as of late.”

  “Not sure about any of that but maybe he was just hungry. He looks starved enough, as is. I could count every one of his ribs! A thing that small couldn’t do half of what you’ve condemned him for!” I shouted, angrily.

  “The bloody fuck I care if he’s hungry or not? He’s a thief, he is! He will hang on this tree for any other Moonwalkers that attempt the same! Try to stop us if you like but I will have repentance for what this thing has cost me.” the man declared before turning back to the blue creature, who was trying to slither away, “Tell that to your king and I’ll pay my fines.”

  Skalige raised his sword, placing it against the man’s neck while I withdrew mine from its sheath. The four men drew axes, scythes and other farming equipment that they happened to have when stumbling into the grove. We stood in perpetual silence, drawing in every ounce of tension we could muster. I saw the fear lurking behind their eyes - farmers, field hands and wine brewers, not soldiers. They trembled where they stood.

  “What has this creature’s life got to measure to? This little shit’s life worth any of ours?” the farmer winced as the cold steel pressed into his skin.

  “We’re taking him with us.” I demanded, keeping my eyes trained on the other farmers. Beneath their straw hats and filth-covered brows, their eyes showed subtle hints of fear.

  “You have a woman’s heart, drifter.” he barked, “Now take the thieving wretch and go before I change my mind...and don’t let me catch you around Orson.”

  I moved past them while the baron kept his blade at the man’s throat and pulled the sniveling creature from where he lay in the mud. His shaking hands daintily gripped mine, conjuring all of the strength he could find to follow us. Shedding more blood than what deemed necessary would be nonessential to our journey. The farmers grudgingly shuffled into the woods, mumbling under their breath.

  Once the three of us had departed the grove, we could finally speak with the miscreant in the privacy of good company. I knelt onto one knee, looked into his perplexing, blue eyes and asked, “Why do they call you Moonwalker? What’s your name?”

  The sniveling creature rubbed his teary eyes and plopped onto the ground, sitting with his legs outstretched as he played with small rocks in the dirt. I glanced to Skalige, who shrugged in response. Neither of us knew if these beings were intelligent at all. The Moonwalker’s forehead eerily pulsated as he breathed.

  “Answer him. We saved your life. It’s the least you could do.” the baron ordered, growing impatient.

  “I don’t think he knows how to speak?”

  Suddenly, the Moonwalker’s eyes met mine and I felt peculiar, as if tiny fingers were toying with my brain. It felt as if thousands of angry hornets were buzzing around in my skull. I could see thousands of stars, galaxies and systems of collective planets through his large, black irises as he locked his stare with mine. A thick smell of soot choked my nostrils. The sound of rushing water drowned out the world around me, becoming louder the more I resisted. I could then see memories, not of my own, but of someone else’s.

  I watched as young children chucked rocks at me. I felt every impact upon my tired face and lanky arms. Alone, I trekked through countless forests and jungles to only be chased away by angry farmers or fieldhands. I felt immense terror in that moment, even though I knew that I was not in control of my actions. I found refuge in some very dark tunnel, only to be chased away by a mother black bear and her cubs. My travels then lead me to Tuskan, where I could feel a terrible starvation roaring in my stomach. I had never felt such hunger before. The farmers from the grove violently wrenched me from their chicken pen, dragged me into the woods and beat me before two shadowy figures arrived.

  The creature released its hold on my mind after I had seen enough. I opened my eyes to see that his forehead had begun glowing a bright shade of blue. Instantly, I doubled over and began vomiting into the grass. A rush of smells and sounds flashed through my head at once. My head throbbed but eventually subsided after several minutes. The creature’s eyes did not blink as he stared at me.

  “What did you save, master? What life is a Moonwalker’s life? Hmm...Humans name Obi.” he answered with a soft voice, “Obi, Obi is name. Hairy man catches Obi in chicken pen. Indeed, hungry...quite hungry. Obi hurts no cows, only takes three eggs.”

  “What was that? How did...how did you do that?” I stammered, wiping puke from my lips onto the wet grass.

  “Master wants to know so Obi shows him.”

  “You’ve been on the run for a long time.” I replied, “I saw everything?
How? Sorry to see what you’ve been through. I couldn’t imagine...”

  “They don’t listen. They throw sharp rocks. Don’t listen.” Obi said, sniffling. I could see many scars and the poor condition of his body from his lack of hygiene.

  “I’m Caine and this is my friend, Skalige. Why do they call you Moonwalker, Obi?”

  “They name us by the color of our skin.” he replied, raising his arm to show me in the sunlight, “Mother Moon birthed us, gave air to breathe and life to live. Nice men saved me. Obi not forget. Obi meets bad men, very bad men. Never good men. Bad men live in North-Lands. Now, Obi knows good men live here too.”

  He smiled, showing several broken teeth from his altercation with the farmers and scars across his chest and limbs. I understood that the creature had dealt with similar situations before. Patches of stringy, black hair fell from his scalp and dangled across his shoulders. He closely favored a young man with a tart-pigmented body, long, lanky arms and small teeth.

  “Are there more like you in Tuskan?”

  “Very few left, very few, master.” Obi answered as he plucked a beetle from the grass, “I see Moonwalkers near Rotera. Many hide, only come out at night. Moonwalkers catch crabs on beach. Never go too close to human city. Oh, no, no. Bad humans live there.”

  “Bad humans?”

  “Bad humans hurt Obi. Bad humans sell Obi to dark-skinned humans on big boats, but Obi sneaks away into woods at night. Obi wants not to leave. No home for Moonwalker past the seas. Obi lives to be free.” said the Moonwalker, smiling with his broken teeth. He tilted his slender arm, allowing the beetle to scurry along his wrist.

  “I can understand that.” I smiled as well.

  “Humans use Moonwalkers, but not Obi. No, no. Obi is free Moonwalker now.”

  “Do you have any family here? Or in the North?” the baron asked.

  “No, masters. No family. Obi lives lonely, lonely.” he answered, his toothy smile gradually breaking, “Brothers, sisters, all sold. Moonwalkers are gathered in the eastern lands. Humans use Moonwalkers to heal. Bad humans. Bad, bad. Obi not go there. Obi knows what bad humans do to Moonwalkers when healing stop working.”

  I silently nodded my head, understanding what he meant.

  “Obi, have you seen a young boy with blonde hair passing by recently? He would’ve been wearing armor that was too big for him. Carried a decorated sword.” I asked, realizing that the Moonwalker might have seen something, “Would’ve been a week ago.”

  “No, Obi not see little human.” he answered, peering up at us with his giant, star-filled eyes. His swollen lips trembled.

  “Well, wherever you go, stay clear of the main roads.” I warned him, “Those men, they don’t look the type to forget easily. Even if you haven’t done what they say you did, they will still try to find you.”

  “Going far, far away to make home near city of silver. That’s where Obi means to go. Thank you, masters.” he thanked us, gleaming with gratitude.

  “Hurry along. Take to the cover of trees and stay hidden.”

  The blue creature fled into the open fields and disappeared into the stocks of unplucked corn. He ran like a monkey, clamoring on all fours with his knuckles. Skalige sheathed his sword and stepped to my side to say, “Moonwalkers, well I’ll be damned. Don’t see many of their kind south of the Further. They say that you can see the entire cosmos in the eyes of a Moonwalker.”

  “Fascinating.” I said as we began making our way towards our horses.

  “Have you always stood up for defenseless creatures? Didn’t try listening to my little Benny when you first met her, did you?” he asked, slightly serious.

  “Your little dragon was as tall as the Tuskan Palace,” I replied, fastening my sword to my horse’s saddlebags, “and she wasn’t much of a talker. More of the ‘I’ll eat you first and ask questions later’ type. Even if Obi was human, I wouldn’t have let them hurt him.”

  “The Mercian with the heart of gold.” the baron said with a laugh, “You must’ve been the kid in the village who got picked on. Am I right? Hit a little too close to home back there, didn’t it? I could see it in your eyes.”

  “Shut it, Skalige, before I start to regret bringing you.”

  ***

  We passed an aged, wooden sign that read: Bardford. This “village” consisted of five houses, a large, cobblestone well, a worn tavern and a handful of farmlands in the distance, one of which appeared to host a towering pile of wood. This “village” was a jumble of carelessly thrown together shacks and houses that sat on separate sides of the valley. A distillery rested between two dense groves with a man sitting in a chair outside the door, smoking from a pipe. I shot a glance to Skalige before we rode past the buildings, heading towards the heap of distraught lumber resting on the hillside. The destruction appeared to be recent, as the wood had not yet begun to rot or decay. Several patches of dark blood coated the green grass on the hillside, as if some murder had already been scrubbed clean.

  “I say we check the tavern.” Skalige suggested.

  I shot him a distasteful glance.

  “For information?” he added, quickly.

  The most populated structure in Bardford rested on a steep hill, providing enough walking distance for drunks to make it home safely in the middle of the night, or a quick tumble to their front doors. Two men stood outside, clutching bottles of ale with nauseated expressions on their faces. Their weak knees staggered as they attempted to talk to each other. I recognized trouble brewing as we approached.

  “Aye, aye, not a care in the world, says I,” one man said to the other, “but if she says I cannot drink...bullocks, I have a fuckin’ dr-drink! She ain’t holdin’ me balls! Figur-figuratively, that is...”

  “Ain’t that like a wench to give you orders!” his friend said, his voice slurring with every syllable, “R-right you are, lad! I’d give ‘er a good smackin’, next time you’s see her!”

  “This ‘ere’s Tuskan! Land of prestige and honor! Land of I do’s what the ‘ell I want’s!” the other man declared between hiccups, sarcastically bowing as royals do to one another.

  “Prestige! Honor! Hah!”

  We approached them cautiously. They noticed us and promptly stepped between us, admiring our armor and weapons. “Mighty fine steel you got there, sir.” the taller one mentioned to Skalige, “Mighty generous if you w-were to let me ‘ave a go with it.”

  “Not generous where I’m from. In your state, you’d probably fall on it.” he replied, moving forward but they grudgingly stepped between him and the door.

  “There’s a fee to enter this ‘ere establishment, drifters. A tax fee.” the other declared, miraculously becoming sober, “Twelve crowns says I forget I ever saw yer pretty mugs. Twenty and by G-God, I’ll lob my sister in there for free.”

  “Thirty at best. Lucina ain’t worth a full forty.” his friend argued.

  “What you mean by that, eh? Sayin’ me sister ain’t good enough for the two of ‘em? I’d wager thirty crowns to yours she’s the best they’ve ever ‘ad.”

  Skalige shook his head in annoyance, attempting to move past them but they refused. He leaned in and gravely whispered to the two drunks, “All right, this is what’s going to happen. You drunk idiots are about to let us in or I’m leaving you with a broken wrist in that pig trough over there. Your choice.”

  The drunks simultaneously glanced into the pigs’ pen on the other side of the tavern before one replied, “Look, you barbecued, ugly sot...you c-couldn’t scare one of ‘em pigs with your flaccid, bloody pr-”

  We’ll never know the end of the man’s slurred sentence.

  My friend quickly snatched him up by his collar, tightly clutching his shirt as he dragged his reluctant body through slops of wet mud. The drunk pleaded and bargained but Skalige moved with a determined focus. He carried him to the trough and held his face above the slop, wrenching his arm behind his back.

  “Where will this little piggy go?” the baron asked, twisting the m
an’s wrist backwards until it nearly snapped.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” the man wailed, “It was only a jest, sir!”

  “Tell me where the piggy’s about to go!”

  “Inside! Go inside!”

  “Didn’t need your permission, but I do appreciate the hospitality.” Skalige hissed before releasing the drunk’s hand. Once the man assumed that the worst was over, my friend then shoved his face into the pig’s trough of spoiled vegetables and rotting meat. He pushed the belligerent man aside, leaving him to gag and vomit alcohol while the shorter friend accompanied him.

  “Really necessary? That whole show?” I asked, once he had rejoined me.

  “Absolutely. Men like that have to be taught a lesson.”

  “At this point, I’m starting to think you just don’t like people.”

  We entered the tavern with confidence, having only confronted a handful of patrons and it being just high noon. The windows were wide open, casting a brilliant light into the front room and illuminating a wondrous sight. Naked women lay on soft pillows, tossing and turning on couches with their bare skin as beautiful as the day the Gods painted them. Brunettes and blondes lay posed, begging for the baron and I to accompany them. A young woman stood behind the bar, polishing a glass and eyeing us with an intense stare.

  Her gentle face was rounded and pale. She was stern and gorgeous upon first glance. Her dark, brown hair fell past her bony shoulders and gathered behind her back. Her soft voice rang out as she greeted us, “Evening, boys. Not too many travelers passing by at this time of day. What’ll it be?”

  “One bottle of de la Coir and a bowl of grapes. Purple, if you don’t mind. I can’t stand those sour green ones.” Skalige answered rather quickly. The barkeep nodded and calmly fetched his order. We rested at the bar, admiring the gawks of the naked women.

  “And you, sir?” she asked, turning her head towards me.