Of Coups and Cauls

by Tyranni Thomas

  The man slid from his horse with an agility that defied his wrinkled features. He moved towards me with unchecked awe. When he was close enough to reach out and touch me, he lowered to a knee. Placing his hands together, he scooped up the sand and held it over his bowed head.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eryx

  “He is symbolically suggesting you share his land. It means you are welcome. To accept his hospitality, kiss the sand. Do it quickly, to refuse would be an insult, my Sweet.”

  She patiently kissed the sand before placing her small hands beneath his. When the old man looked up, she nodded, encouraging him to stand with her.

  The herd dissipated silently. I was surprised to find only a dozen or so young men lingering on the edge of the beach.

  “Tents will be prepared by the time we arrive. The Goddess will have time to rest and refresh while a feast is prepared, then we will hear your sagas. Surely you have seen great adventures for her to have not one, but an entire parade of peacocks.” The Shaman’s eyes roamed over our soldiers. It took me a moment to realize the elder mistook them for Faustlin prisoners of war.

  “Did he just call the men peacocks?” Azaria laughed, briefly abandoning her sovereign mask.

  He answered. “Indeed, did you not see them with their little helmets before taking them?” His hand rose above his head, and he gave a poor imitation of what seemed to be a rooster. Azaria burst out in laughter and the man smiled proudly.

  “My mother made the Caul crown to imitate the helmets my father’s men wore. The long-tailed things that make their heads look like a horse’s ass when they trollop along.” She strained.

  “The very ones.” He nodded, and even Drayce in all his polite nature shared in the laugh.

  “I am Ki’Loke of the First Blood. The City of Tents is not far from here.”

  The shaman began to sing. His long dark hair danced in the wind while he strutted and chanted, leading the way to his village. His howling rolled and echoed across the misty valley with words that even I was at a loss for.

  “How do you know he isn’t calling in the cannibals? Something like a wolf howling at the moon…” Drayce whispered, once we had fallen back a few paces.

  I didn’t really have the patience to fuel a glare, so I checked the big lug with my elbow instead.

  Ever the graceful one, he stumbled over his own feet and wavered on the edge of the whiteout. It was like hurling a child toward the dark.His arms shot out, his hair flew and tangled about him in the frenzy to stay with the visible crowd.

  I knew it was going to happen, I prayed it wouldn’t, but it did; the sasquatch gave a blood curdling scream that left the Shaman whirling around to confront us. His weapon unleashed with a menacing scrape.

  “What…what is it?” he hissed, poising his long, curved blade in the air. We might have shared the same trade, but he was clearly much less reserved about creating his own patients.

  “Our friend, he uh… you could say he is afraid of the dark.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the blade, the entire Zaith language failed me. My mother would have been so ashamed.

  The old man snorted, drawing me back to my senses. His wise attentive gaze roamed over Drayce without any sign of approval. After a moment or two of awkward silence, he nodded as if the answer had been divinely delivered.

  “Nothing carrying stones grows that tall,” he mused before turning around and taking up his sacred stomping once again. The hypnotic wailing enshrouded us once again, this time Drayce kept his mouth shut and shoulder glued against mine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drayce

  The mist was so creepy. It carried a chill, and the dense swirls seemed to almost form faces before rolling and dissipating into the nothingness. The old man could say what he wanted, I wasn’t about to venture into that thick white abyss. Not for anything or anyone.

  We walked for what seemed like an eternity, with only the pale dirt path beneath us and arm-length visibility. I began to wonder if the fog was growing thicker, or my nerves were wearing thinner. The rolling, long-winded shriek grew louder, it echoed around us, and then there was a deafening silence.

  My heart did a somersault and landed heavily in my gut. I could make out Azaria’s pendulating braids if I squinted really hard. Eryx reached out into the abyss, when he didn’t withdraw his hand, I assumed that he found her shoulder.

  I kept my eyes on the bared earth; it brought some measure of comfort against the constricting mist. Goosebumps stole up the back of my arms when the ground rustled beyond the mist. I held my breath and counted—or tried to, rather—but the steps were too many to count. From either side, I was confronted with the sound of tall grass being disturbed. I did what anyone in my position would have done; I tangled my hand around the first thing, I found and prepared to launch it as a decoy if necessary.

  There was no time for it, the trail shifted down hill and we escaped the mist at last.

  A wide circle of people stretched around, perhaps a few hundred. Some on horses, others huddled with children. They were fierce, proud, and here I was clutching Eryx’s hand. I glanced down to our tangled fingers in confusion before wiping my hand on my pants and trying to act casual. Of course, that was impossible with his unblinking expressionless stare down. I tried to mumble an apology, but it probably came off as incoherent babbling.

  Every eye in the circle was boring into my ego. For a moment, I considered leaping back into the unknown.

  Ki’Loke raised his palm in the air, and his aged voice carried across the crowd. The Zaith language sounded like a song, and even though there wasn’t a dramatic ululating this time, it was still hypnotic.

  “What did he say?” I asked Eryx under my breath.

  “He is introducing the Zaith women to Azaria. They refer to her as the Protector of Children and Women, one of many goddesses recognized in the Zaith culture.”

  I stood dumbfounded and gaped at Azaria. She was an invisible prisoner to the state less than a year ago, and now people were kissing the trail she had tread behind us. Women pressed forward, weeping at the sight of Azaria and pressing their young children closer for a chance to beg her blessing.

  “Come, we go now to your tent, Goddess. There is much to share with you.” Ki’Loke waved his hand, before leading us towards the City of Tents in a companionable silence. It looked massive from the distance, spanning at least two miles. Streets had been fashioned so that the tents were a habitable maze. We turned down one muddy lane and then right onto a narrower path. Several tent doors were opened. As we made our way, I could see the people eating, sewing, and lounging within them. It seemed just like any other village, perhaps quieter, despite the absence of brick and solid structures.

  Alas, we entered a large white tent. Brilliantly carved seats were placed near a fire, a board lay between them with several carved pieces. It seemed strategy was a universal pastime. In the back, a shadow was cast from one side of the tent to the other. Even I couldn’t aspire to leave such an impression. It slowly shifted towards us until a tall slender man arrived next to the fire. He had no eyebrows, and the area that should have been eyelids was mangled and hideous looking. He was a marked man!

  “Yes, I am,” a hollow decrepit voice replied.

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. Behind me, Azaria gasped. Her fingers covered her mouth and she scampered around the fire, tossing her arms around the robed figure.

  “This is Grimmik, the eldest and most trusted of my mother’s advisors,” Azaria quickly explained. “I haven’t seen him since the day I was sentenced to Tauran and all things Delucre.”

  Her laughter was something special. Even I found myself smiling to the sound of it. The stress melted away from her, and for a moment she just might have been the woman who arrived on our shores. She quickly returned to the strict-jawed, fierce-eyed sovereign, but the air had been cleared.

  Grimmik and Ki’Loke knelt near her, each taking a hand to kiss and pay their respects.

  �
��Goddess, you were left an inheritance. Fate and your mother’s manifestations have led you here so that you may learn of their full potential. You will need them in the moons to come.” Grimmik’s voice remained low, as if he were telling us the secrets of life itself.

  Ki’Loke retrieved a box. It was tiny, with intricate carvings, like a smaller version of the one Azaria kept her crystals in. This one had no lock.When it popped open, there was a string of dark beads, with the baby caul skull at one end and a key at the other. Azaria reached into the folds of her bodice and retrieved her identical copy.

  The elder smiled and nodded.

  “She gave it to us, so you would have proof that things we say are true and directly from the Goddess Asena.” Ki’Loke lay his strand of stones down and gently took Azaria’s.

  “Mine is a decoy,” he said with a chuckle before rolling the string between his palms. After a moment, he placed them in Azaria’s hands and nodded, encouraging her to do the same. She twirled it, and as it picked up momentum, the lighter ones started to shift. They took on the distinct shape of a tiny ivory skull. Not a bird or a critter, but a shrunken, human skull. When it slowed, it was once again a rough unpolished rock amongst all the others.

  “Young Goddess, you have inherited the gift of elemental manipulation. Just as your mother once grew vines and turned the ground to quick sand against her foes, you now have the ability—” Grimmik began.

  “To make the ocean swallow ships…” Eryx gasped.

  “Yes! Why, yes that would be a most useful…” The old man stared at Eryx like he was in the presence of a genius.

  “She did it, I cannot claim any credit, regrettably,” Eryx mused.

  “Everyone tells their children that they can do anything they put their mind to, young Goddess. In your case, however, it was very literal advice. You must never forget. You hold the favor of the universe in your fingertips.” Grimmik curled her fingers around the stones; it was a gesture that almost seemed symbolic.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Azaria

  By the time we exited the tent, night had fallen. The mist had not yet taken hold, but its precursory chill left me humbling myself against Drayce's massive form. He didn’t mind. Within moments, the heavy bulk of his arm was resting over my shoulder.

  The tents we passed were aglow from the firepits within, making silhouettes and shadows of their occupants. It served us well—their movements drew attention away from the three of us as we skirted the trail, taking in the serene silence and fresh air.

  Ahead of us, a great circle of rocks caught our attention. The stones had been stacked until they were about waist high. Jubilant voices carried over the breeze as we drew closer.

  Upon entering the natural enclosure, we found two dozen or so young adults perched, lazing, or otherwise tangled about each other. Some were trading campfire tales, others were in the throes of carnal conspiracies. They seemed oblivious to the other groups around them, despite the growing buzz of communal harmony.

  Strong smelling liquor was shared by all. Something as long and wide as a bamboo reed was produced, and a woman began to stuff something into one end of it. She placed the reed to her lips and held a burning wick over the end she had just packed. The woman inhaled deeply, before relinquishing the makeshift pipe to her lover. For what seemed like an eternity, they kissed and passed the smoke, from one’s lips to the other’s until it had evaporated unto nothingness.

  “What is that?” I asked once curiosity had bypassed my determination to not appear ignorant.

  Drayce snorted, his eyes snapped to the ground like a nervous stable boy. It didn’t do him a lot of good; anything shorter than an oak tree would still be able to look up into those expressive eyes of his and seek the truth. There was no successful disappearing acts to be found or afforded to a man of his stature.

  “Passion Serum?” I guessed, only to be silenced by Eryx’s chuckle. On any other man it would have been labelled condescending, but it was just his thoughtful way of gathering his words. A habit I had gotten used to over the many moons amongst the men.

  “No, My Queen. It is the Nirvana Root,” Eryx informed me in a tone that was overly dry and nonchalant.

  I was not to be put off so quickly, despite his and Drayce’s attempts to lead me back out of the circle.

  “Ugh. I have spent far too much time, cramped on boats, swaying in the breeze, and locked behind palace doors. I refuse to sit inside when there is an opportunity for company that does not involve pretenses.”

  Yes, I heard them stuttering and trying to find some form of an objection that wouldn’t set me off, but I didn’t stick around for any presentations. I meandered about the animated conversations and writhing bodies, until I happened upon a few empty throws in the back. They were thick plush furs, no doubt some young warrior’s prize.

  A woman beside me smiled and tipped her head, reaching out to pat the fur in a friendly manner. We may not have spoken one another’s language, but it was companionable and welcoming none the less. With a sigh, Drayce dropped down beside me. It was an odd noise, one that might suggest we were about to crawl into something.

  “If it please you?” Eryx softly relented.

  “It does.”

  With a few faint groans, Drayce had himself stretched out with his head near my feet. His big eyes swam about the sky, taking in the glory of it all. It was different out here, even if it was the same sky, it just seemed…more wholesome without all the brick, banter, and hurry of the civilized world.

  “Do you ever wonder, what it was like for them? Before the wars… when it was one united proud nation?” I asked.

  “Hm?” Eryx responded, tilting his head towards me. Drayce’s finger was lazily connecting the constellations, lost to his own little world. When it came to certain things, breathtaking or beautiful things, he really did have the awe of a child. It was likely what made him a good artist.

  “Our mothers.” I almost couldn’t bring myself to whisper the answer. The cool night’s air had copulated with the heady contents of the reed. Even from a distance, I was under its effect with my thoughts drifting.

  “Who knows. Perhaps in another life they were friends, completely unaware that their offspring would unite in the Great Valley of Zaith. They would be proud to know we honor them with our memory and carry their names onto the winds.”

  The air seemed to lodge in my throat, and tears threatened. Before they could spill, the comforting weight of Eryx’s hand fell atop my own.

  “Something in the fire must have caught the air’s favor.” It was a pathetic explanation that caused my voice to crack with its delivery, but as always, Eryx had the good grace not to call me on it.

  His gentle fingers found my jaw. With next to no effort, Eryx encouraged my face towards his. The smooth talking was gone, all that remained was his lips on mine and the wonderful dream-like dancing of our tongues. It all felt surreal. Something nudged against my calf. I glanced down to see the long reed being offered towards me.

  Without hesitation, I took hold of it, and began to bring it towards my mouth.

  "Wow. No. Your Majesty!" Eryx panicked with a word salad that betrayed his own partial inebriation. He reached around me, quickly trying to stake claim to the makeshift pipe. “You mustn’t…it is…very intense…the effects.”

  His eyes swam around my face, and I got the impression that he was trying to say something, without saying it. In the midst of my amusement, Drayce snatched the reed from my hand.

  “You’re wasting it.” He laughed before placing his lips to it and inhaling deeply. Within moments, the reed was poking my other leg. I grasped for it, but Eryx beat me. We remained locked in an intense stare down that spanned many breaths. Finally, he took the reed to his lips, cutting his eyes towards me in accusation and inhaled the forbidden flower.

  Instead of handing it to me, he passed the reed away from our circle. I tried to reach past him, and claim it before it left his fingertips, but he grabbed my jaw. Instin
ct demanded I respond, but his mouth was already on mine. He had exhaled most of it already but managed to blow a little puff of nirvana smoke towards me, before capturing my lip between his teeth.

  His tongue lapped over mine, and the firm pressure of his lips mingled into a prickly sensation. My mouth went numb, and fire flew through my veins. Everything throbbed deliciously and tingled with demand. I tossed my head back, and the stars blinked at me

  Beside me, Drayce’s finger made trails of light as it looped above him. Eryx’s hands chased the heat down my stomach and then back up my core with two fingers. I knew why they called it the Nirvana Root now, and I prayed… it would never end.

  Hands roamed me, more than there were even bodies to account for. Drayce was devouring me from the toes up, and Eryx’s sweet accent was chanting over me, commanding the very breeze that swept across my throat and chest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Azaria

  I awoke to the flutter of dandelion wishes blowing across my face. When I swiped them away, the most hypnotic crystal green eyes I had ever seen stared back at me. His skin was the same bronzed olive as DeHaven’s. The man’s long sun-lightened dreadlocks meant something to the Zaith, but my morning-after haze, prevented me from thinking on my feet as I might normally have.

  The muscles of his shoulders rippled as he hovered in a perch atop the stone wall. His pants were thick leather, ripped to expose the scarred flesh beneath. His eyes followed me, and for a moment, it was as if I were on the plains staring at Fury in all his silent majestic prowess. It was something out of my control.

  I carefully maneuvered around my two Kings. They always tried to caution me against everything, and this, this was definitely something I wanted to explore. I followed the expanse of a broad shoulders and tight muscles to a large decorated tent. Grimmik and Ki’Loke sat inside, sipping something that smelled akin to coffee but perhaps more bitter. Their wide-eyed and slack-jawed expressions matched. The beautiful specimen before me, however, was wearing a predatorial grin.