by Aaron Crash
“Love that Tree of Life,” I said. “I was always a fan of treehouses. Bet you could make a good one on a tree that big.”
I wasn’t sure what the connection was to the nuna seeds and sex, but I figured I’d learn eventually.
The sky warrior dug into her satchel and removed one. She forced it into my mouth, and it was small, about the size of a sunflower seed. I bit down, and the flavor hit me. The seed had a satisfying salty flavor like pretzels and beer and a cute little barfly who knows how to smile. It wasn’t just about the taste—it was also about the feel.
Power filled me, and I was soothed at the same time. Also, I was instantly sober, feeling like I could lift the entire barn and throw it across the horizon.
I sat, blinking stupidly, and then I couldn’t help it. I got up and grabbed the winged woman and hugged her. “Lalindryx, those helped. Those totally helped.” I then stepped back and shifted into a Homo Draconis.
Dryx staggered back, her eyes and mouth wide. “Yes, I knew there was a reason I wanted you. Look at those big, powerful wings. If only you had feathers. I know I shouldn’t want you, but I do. I’ve dreamed of a dragon man ravishing me since I was but a maid, when I first needed the Quickening.”
Those were a lot of words. All I knew was that that little seed had done the trick. I felt normal and whole. “Thanks, Lalindryx. That hit the spot. Let’s go.”
We left the barn. I’d still not seen any Wynnym. I’d heard they were horse people, like centaurs maybe, but I wasn’t sure what that meant in any real sense. The universe is a big place. Lots of different types of centaurs out there.
Even Azrack had horse men, and I don’t mean BoJack.
I stopped in my tracks. My birth song’s melody went through me as I stood under the gray sky in front of the red barn. In Giraud, Jared and I fought centaurs who were human on top but mechanical horses below. They were led by a corrupt lawman.
Another name came to me. Rattletrap. That had been the bad guy. I remembered the squeaking hinges of his mouth opening because he was part human, part machine, an evil cyborg sheriff who had turned his dusty town into an abattoir. Some men needed a bullet right between their telescoping eyes.
I blinked.
“Has he become a simpleton?” Dryx asked in a growl.
Rhee laughed. “No, Axel goes away sometimes. We wait. I take long looks at him. He sure is handsome.”
“Even if he is a simpleton,” Figg said, trying to be funny. She didn’t have much of a sense of humor, and neither did Dryx. That meant Rhee and I had to supply the humor. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
The rain hadn’t fallen yet. I shifted into a dragon, got myself some passengers and our luggage, and took off. That nuna seed had fixed my core for the moment, but I could feel the belly burn creeping back. I would need a more permanent fix. And soon.
The farmlands became more numerous. I did see some people in the fields, but they looked like normal people, no horse butts. The women might be a little big—big shaggy women. They were too far away for me to be sure.
In the distance, the sky was blacker, darker, and I had a definite Mordor moment. Boiling black smoke was coming from somewhere. Was that volcanic ash, a storm cloud, or industrial pollution? Sweetleaf wasn’t going to be sweet, and I didn’t think there would be many leaves either.
It looked like a doorway to hell. Well, good, I was a dragon. I’d like the heat.
Chapter Fourteen
I KEPT THINKING ABOUT what I’d heard about Sweetleaf.
The town had been the capital of the Nectar Empire, and supposedly, Dvey had built a palace up in the clouds. Well, that could be, but I couldn’t see it because of all the smoke in the air. It had the dark stench of burning coal, which I’d always found nostalgic. Even though I was born in 2021, my hunting teacher would talk about coal smoke. He’d been around way back when people had used coal to heat their homes. A delivery guy would come around to fill up your bins back when there were milkmen and drive-ins and Elvis Presley was making the girls cry.
Here, the girls were too big to cry. That was the sense I got, flying over the shantytown that surrounded Sweetleaf. Those shanties were big, with doorways at least ten feet tall. It was like a Jack-and-the-Beanstalk slum that would’ve made Mumbai in India proud.
I’d seen those slums for myself. Another one of my mothers, Aria Khat, had grown up in India. Memories of Aria came back to me. She was a beautiful woman who wasn’t much for hugging. She’d taught me how to fight and how to fly. She was a warrior through and through.
So far I had the names of two of my mothers—Aria and Tessa. And there was Uncle Jared, and our buddy Cooper, and my hunting teacher, yes, Liam Strider. The names rang out in my head, so clear, so vibrant, but I still didn’t know the name of my true mother. Or the story of Jared and what had happened to him. That would come. I simply had to be patient.
The city of Sweetleaf had been built on a hill, or maybe a mountain, or maybe it was just a pile of cities on top of one another. I couldn’t tell, but the shacks, tents, and winding alleys outside all surrounded a rising metropolis of stone, smoke, and stink. The obsidian highway was clear of weeds and empty of people.
Sweetleaf hadn’t been built on a river. Figg had shown me a map of the eastern part of Xid. You had the Shine River up north, which took water from the Dyuvan Mountains and took it to the Dawn Coast. The Dyuvans were the central spine of the Xiddian continent, with the Nectar Grasslands on one side and the Ashchima Wastes on the other. There were three rivers on the eastern side of the mountains: the Shine, the Yellowmud, and the South River. Yellowmud was the siltiest, and that was what had ruined Foulwater’s deep port. The South River emptied out through the town of Clearwater, which was a town worth saving—pretty, rich, and pristine.
Fuck that. I liked Foulwater. Give me an underdog any day of the week.
Strange, but even without a river, Sweetleaf had canals full of black sludge running down off the central mountains and through the walled city itself. I’d been flying high, up in the coal clouds, trying to hide because dragons were rare on Caranja—I didn’t want everyone talking about me.
Hidden, I circled the city a few times to get a sense of it. The Mazes was easy to find—it was a tangle of streets on the eastern side, a descending set of towers and buildings. Most of the avenues were fairly broad, and the doorways were big, far bigger than what a human would need. Like the shanties, this was a city built for giants, which meant maybe it wasn’t so much crowded as built to accommodate big people.
The western side of the city had the tall castle, which was surrounded by a moat. Between the Mazes and the castle was a wide lake. That was where the black water was coming from, running through canals and out the fifty-foot walls. It must be a natural spring, polluted now by something.
South of the lake was a series of long buildings, and between each long house was a lawn of grass dingy with soot. I saw dark figures milling about in the long barracks, or were they stables?
North of the lake were big black buildings with chimneys. Some were belching out smoke. Others weren’t. Machinery inside the structures clanked and clanged and hissed. When I’d first gotten to Foulwater, someone had mentioned dwarven machine lore. I wondered if there were dwarves in Sweetleaf. If so, what kind of machines had they built?
I didn’t see anywhere I could land without being spotted. I returned to the south and spotted an open alley in the slums, just off the obsidian highway. Landing there wouldn’t be easy. Damn, but I had to get my flying shit together.
I remembered a lesson from Aria. Her nickname had been Old Blood and Guts, since she was far more interested in fighting to win than fighting fair. She showed my father her soft side, since she loved him so much. To me? She’d been stern. However, one of the benefits of having so many mothers was that you could always find one to coddle you. Tessa, for example, would always say yes. Aria? She always said no.
But Aria had taught me how to land in a tight spac
e. It was about using your wings, catching the air, and cupping it under you.
I did that then, coming into the alley and dropping my gear. I filled my wings full of air, decreased my wind speed, and hit the ground, hard enough to send Figg and Rhee flying. They rolled into the dirt, and I shifted human, just as a woman’s big face filled a window. “What’s all that nonsense going on out there!”
She spoke in a loud version of Xiddian—she was loud because of her size—big lungs, big mouth, big voice box. Judging by the height of the window, she had to be eight feet tall at least.
Figg stood and raised her bident. “Sorry, ma’am. We’re new in town. We’ll be heading to the main gate.”
“Like I care!” the giantess called out. “Just keep it down out there.”
I dressed quickly, and we stepped out onto the obsidian highway. Rhee adjusted her hat to keep her ears hidden, though by her eye shape, she was clearly elven. We’d just have to risk it. I could pass as human. Figg was human.
And Dryx kept herself up in the clouds. Was she going straight for the Stallion King? We knew where his castle was—our flyover had given us that bit of info. I hoped she was smart enough to know that working together, we’d have a better chance of freeing any of the Jataksha sold to the Wynnym.
Figg, Rhee, and I walked down the obsidian highway. We weren’t your typical peasants, since we were fairly well armed. Rhee was a walking arsenal with her bow, cutlass, dirk, and throwing daggers. As for Figg, she carried her bident and her net slung over her shoulder. I walked with the Calcifax staff, which didn’t pass very well for a walking stick.
We ambled down Dvey’s Road until we reached the big gate, which was wide enough to accommodate three Clydesdales walking side by side. It was thirty feet tall, so even three horses stacked on top of each other could’ve made it through. Two eight-foot-tall women stood at the gargantuan gate, which was open.
One woman had brown hair with the sides of her head shaved. Tattoos covered her scalp. She wore leather armor and had a shield covering her left arm. Her right hand lay on the pommel of a broadsword. She looked genuinely angry at us for bothering her. But it was clear no one was getting into the city without talking to her first.
The other guard was far prettier, and her face was open and friendly. A big bushy mane of red hair covered her head, almost lion-like. Her hazel eyes were mostly green, but they turned to orange near the pupil. She had pale skin, the type that freckles instead of tans. She too had big leather armor covering her giant frame. She must’ve weighed four hundred pounds or more. Most of that would be muscle and boob. Her thighs were as round as Rhee was thick.
She held a shield and a spear with a leaf-blade. A thick short sword hung from her belt. Yes, Big Red had the look of a guard, but there was something off about her. She looked too friendly to be taken too seriously.
The other, angrier guard snarled, “This is the great city of Sweetleaf, Dvey’s paradise, the pride of the Nectar Empire. By order of the Great Stallion King, Jim Goodgolde, you must state your business.”
The redhead smiled at me a bit dopily, and then her entire demeanor changed. She brandished the spear. “Yes, humans, Ludmilla and I are here to keep undesirables out of our fair city. Are you undesirables? If you are, I will spit you like a pig, and we’ll roast you, but we won’t eat you. No, eating would be too good for you. We’ll do other terrible things to you. After cooking you I mean. Terrible, terrible things. And we can. Because we’re city guards. And we’re very powerful. And much bigger than you.”
The brown-haired Ludmilla sighed. “That’s enough, Broomhelga. Let’s let them respond.”
My improv classes failed me. My mind was blank. And Figg wasn’t going to be much help.
Rhee, though, was our pirate and general scallywag. She came forward with the big feather on her ridiculous hat wobbling. “Greetings to you, Ludmilla and Broomhelga. I am Rhonda Miller, of the Dawn Coast, from the town of Foulwater. We have come here to discuss business with a certain someone in the Mazes. You must know him. He runs a tavern. He is very well connected.”
I’d known Rhondas on Earth, and Rhee was not a Rhonda. I figured I’d be a Chuck if pressed. Figg could be Felicity. Sure. Aliases for everyone! I did like how Rhee gave the most generic description of a bar owner possible. Finding someone connected to the underworld would be far better than simply asking about concentration ink and the lost Pentakorr brand supposedly in the city somewhere. Or above the city in the smoke.
Broomhelga had a suspicious expression on her freckled face.
As for Ludmilla, she scoffed. “You mean Hannek Cash, I’ll bet. Business? What kind of business?”
Broomhelga snapped her fingers. “Yes, that’s right, Hannek Cash. Cashcow. Cashgrab. That guy. He does know everything that’s going on in the Mazes. But yeah, you three, Ludmilla asked you a question. What kind of business?”
“It’s private,” I said. “But if you must know, the people of Foulwater have slaughtered the biggest Kankar herd on the Nectar Grasslands, and we’ve also taken down two families of merfolk. Foulwater is rich and powerful. You don’t want to mess around with it.”
I might as well play up how tough we were. It might stop people from attacking us.
Rhee laughed. “He’s right. But more to the point, there’s a sorceress there named Finniwigg Nightshine. She summoned an ancient warrior from Rydd R’Tah, a winged warrior who breathes fire.”
Ouch. I wanted to breathe fire, but I’d not figured it out yet. I jumped on the chance to get more information.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen any of the Jataksha in your fair city.” Calling the coal-dusted cesspit of Sweetleaf fair was like putting a prom dress on a pig.
Ludmilla turned pale, but didn’t answer because this time, Broomhelga spilled the beans. “No.” Big Red snorted out a laugh. “There are no terrible winged creatures terrorizing us from the skies. That’s not happening. I wouldn’t be out at night, though. Because of... because of...”
Ludmilla tried to save the lame lie. “Because of crime, terrible crime, and you three are so puny. Like that one with the fork, she’s only what? Five feet eight inches? No, you’d all three die.”
So it was pretty clear that terrible winged creatures were terrorizing them at night. Well, we still had a couple more hours of daylight.
Figg finally spoke. “Thank you two, for keeping your city safe. I appreciate your dedication to your town. I’m Francine Olivia Seabring, of the Foulwater Seabrings. If you’ll excuse us, we’ve come a long way, and we’d like to see this Hannek Cash as soon as possible.”
Rhee gave Figg an elbow. “You said it, Francine. I can’t wait to see old Cashgrab again. I love our Cashcow. We’re going to do some great business, since we’re from Foulwater, which is the gem of the Dawn Coast.”
Ludmilla scowled.
Broomhelga, though, smiled brightly. “I’ve heard nice things about Foulwater. I’ve heard there are parties, and riches, and even a brothel with the most beautiful women in all of Xid.” Then she made a face. “Not that I like women. I love cock, big Wynnym horse cock. All the time. Yep. I certainly do.”
This had taken a vulgar turn, and I was pretty sure the giant freckled woman was the worst liar I’d ever met. She said, in no uncertain terms, what she really liked. Okay, so Sweetleaf was guarded by a freckled lesbian with big boobs.
Rhee nodded. “Now we’re talking. Big horse cock, Broomhelga. You should come by tonight. We’ll be at Cashy’s. We can party, do some beer drinking, smoke some dully. There’s a reason why it’s called Sweetleaf, am I right?”
Broomhelga nodded and looked far too eager.
Ludmilla sighed and gave her friend a rather disgusted look. Probably not a friend. Definitely not a lover. It was the look you gave a co-worker when you realized that if you weren’t working together, you would never, ever hang out.
Ludmilla motioned at us with her shield. “Yes, go in, and it sounds like you know the way.”
Broom
helga frowned and returned to pretending to be a badass guard. She stepped aside “Yes, welcome, Foulwaterians. Those of Foulwater. Come into our fair city. But we’ll have our eyes on you. If you cause trouble, the town guard will know, and you’ll get your butts beaten. And you won’t like it. You perverts.”
Rhee must’ve bit her lip because she didn’t say anything in return.
Figg hurried forward, I let the pirate elf slip by, and I took up the rear. I gave Ludmilla a nod, but I smiled at Broomhelga.
The big old friendly girl smiled back at first. Then she caught herself and frowned. “That’s right. Go in. Stay out of trouble. And if you’re perverts, we’ll throw you out. We won’t tolerate perverts in Sweetleaf.” She continued to mumble under her breath.
They turned. That was when I noticed the tails sticking out of their armor. Ludmilla had a tanned tail with a tuft of brown hair on the tip. Broomhelga had a very white tail, even a bit freckled, with a red tuft.
I wondered what other strange things I’d see in Sweetleaf. And what kind of strange characters. The two giant guards had been interesting, especially the redhead. I had little doubt we’d be seeing her at the bar later that night.
Or maybe not. It seemed the terrible winged things came out at night. What were they? And would we see Dryx again to warn her?
Chapter Fifteen
FIGG, RHEE, AND I TURNED left out the gate and walked down wide, long stairs. At the bottom, we hit the main southern road, a broad avenue leading east. I got my first look at Wynnym males. The street was teeming with any number of strange creatures.
I was having my Luke Skywalker at the Mos Eisley cantina moment. I stopped and stood there, blinking, taking in the menagerie.
