28
VENDRONIA
Vendronia thought she might die this time.
Nausea came at her like a trog fist in her stomach. Sweat soaked her hair and tunic, yet she shivered as if she were in fits of the cold madness. The stench of sour vomit and bodily fluids had drawn a considerable number of flies that crawled over her skin and lips. Nausea would swell and roll over her in waves until she either vomited or dry heaved into the dark gray sand. The yearning needled up her spine.
He put a hand on her shoulder. "I think they went to get someone."
She slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me, please! I need my. . . My medicine! I need my medicine!"
"W... W... W...W-What?" Ivanos asked. "You have an illness?"
She nodded, still shaking. Off and on she chewed her bottomlip.
"W... W... W-What kind of medicine? Do you have the fits?"
"Something like that."
Ivanos knitted his brows together, then winced from the pain it caused him to do so before he said, "This medicine. You take it every day, don't you?"
She wasn't going to answer that. She didn't want to talk at all. She turned her face away from him.
"You do, then. I... I... I thought as much. I've known people who needed medicine every day before. Moonmoth? Kratum? Bell Angel? Oh wait, I know. Y... Y... Y-Yage! Yage Root is it? You're in withdrawals, aren't you?"
She closed her eyes and cradled her arms around herself, fingers over elbows.
"They're coming," Ivanos said. "The guard who left is bringing someone back with him."
It was Yurka. Not her first choice of people she would've wanted to see, but it would have to do. She didn't care at this point.
Yurka strode up to the sapling constructed cage and kicked the bars right next to where Ivanos lay his head, startling him so that he sat up in a jolt. "Wake up, cuck!" She giggled after seeing his reaction. Yurka had always had a deranged, piercing laugh that reminded one of yelping coyotes.
"Y... Y... Y-Your Crone Mother is in need of. . . her medicine," Ivanos explained.
"Shut up! We will decide what she needs!" Yurka tossed Vendronia's ritual pack down into the gray sand next to the cage. "Here is your weakness. Though, I told Varl Borlin I did not want to bring it to you."
Vendronia crawled on her elbows towards the edge of the cage where the bag lay within reach. She put her hand out to grasp the leather carrying strap, and Yurka kicked it away.
"You should not use these devil medicines. They make you go mad!" Yurka pointed a finger at the side of her own head and made a stirring gesture. "Trogs do not use these medicines. We only need ale and whiskey to comfort us. You are Crone Mother. You should not do things that cucks do with these roots and leaves that poison your thoughts."
Vendronia remained silent. Her body erupted in another wave of convulsions.
Yurka sighed and brought the ritual pack back over to the cage. She went as far as to reach inside and rummage through it until she found the yage root wrapped in a small cotton cloth. She unwrapped it and reached into to the cage near Vendronia's mouth and held it there for her. "Well? Is this enough?"
Vendronia leaned up and bit off a piece of the yage root. It wasn't as much as she usually ate, but it might be enough to lessen the withdrawals. She fell back down in the sand then and closed her eyes to wait for the effect. As she did, still trembling, Yurka continued to taunt Ivanos.
"See my trophies, cuck boy? You like it? Many tiny cocks from cucks." There was a chime as Yurka unsheathed her wideblade. Then another sound of her dragging it across the sapling bars. "I can't wait for yours, little man! Maybe I will let you fight me and make you a sacrifice to Gorva the War Goddess of Glory! It will be good fun, no?"
"Yurka! Step away from the cage!" It was the voice of Borlin. His footsteps in the sand grew louder as he approached. Two others could be heard following him.
"I have given her the poison she likes," said Yurka. "She is feeling better now. You did not need to come assist."
"Release the Crone Mother!" Borlin commanded. "She has paid enough for her error in judgment! This cuck is no threat to us without his magic sword!"
"For only a day?" Yurka asked with disbelief.
"We need her," said Borlin. "Scouts have returned from Red Wolf and Eurovoth. Their King, some cuck named Ector, has sent armies north to Red Wolf to unite with them against us. They have a magi who can turn the air into fire. The scouts also reported it looks as though another large army is on its way to Nodet. If we are to defend our return home and raid again, we need the Crone Mother and her black magic."
"The warriors will not side with you on this," said Yurka. "I think it is a bad idea."
"Enough with this talk, Yurka! Release her from the cage! As Varl, I command it!"
Vendronia used the saplings of the cage to pull herself up to a sitting position, feeling a slight relief from the yage root. She understood the mindset of the trog. Yurka was right. It was a bit early. To release her now would appear a sign of weakness in Borlin as a leader. "No. I will stay for a while longer, another day. The Witch-God has given me foresight that I should speak more with this knight. His name is Ivanos. All that I ask is that you bring us a couple waterskins."
Yurka scoffed at this.
Varl Borlin grumbled in his throat. "You have tested me on many occasions already. You've only been Crone Mother for a few days. I've only been Varl for a few days. Everything has turned upside down and against the trog ways. Do you not realize I posted the guards here not to keep you from escaping so much but to protect you from trog warriors who disagree with me and wish to kill you?"
Vendronia felt her guts twinging with a surge of panic. She wanted to grab her ritual pack and pull it into the cage with her where she could help herself to more of the yage root she had stored within it. That would only further tarnish her favor with Borlin. Instead, she tried to slow her breathing and hoped he didn't notice her loss of composure.
Yurka curled her upper lip. She had thick puffy lips. "You forgot to tell her the other thing. There is a rumor that she made up the story about the beast, and that she murdered Varl Torvul and Adon. They are saying no one saw a beast enter the town. There were trogs sleeping in the tavern downstairs and no one saw a beast come into the building."
Vendronia couldn't stop her hands from shaking then. "How could I do such to them? You are all nearly twice as big as me! Torvul and Adon were champion warriors! I am just as small as a cuck woman! And how could I have torn out their throats like that and ripped them open?"
Yurka shrugged. "I admit you are small and weak like a cuck. I do not think you could kill Torvul or Adon. I am only telling you what's being said. Maybe you should have considered the damage healing this cuck man would do to your reputation before you acted so fast?"
Vendronia looked at Borlin and said, "Please. Just give me a few hours at least. Leave me my ritual pack and I will consult the Witch-God about all this. I will do what is best for us all. I would never do anything to cause harm to the trog. Have I not only ever tried to be one of you? It's true I'll never be as big or as strong as even the smallest trog woman, but I can serve you another way with my magic. With the wisdom I gained from Crone Mother Ona, the only mother I ever knew."
Borlin crossed his arms and stared downward, then nodded. "Very well. You may have until nightfall with the cuck man and the Witch-God. Then you must come and help us prepare for an assault. We will not stay here to defend Nodet again. It is not favorable for defense. It is not the trog way to hide in places and wait for enemies to attack." He turned away and headed off back to the city, motioning for Yurka to do the same. Yurka gave the ritual pack and kick, nudging it closer to the cage within Vendronia's reach, and then she followed after Borlin.
* * * *
Vendronia waited several minutes before she went into her ritual pack for more yage root. Just two more root stems. That's all she would eat. Not too much. Not like before when she would eat six or seven and fall int
o a hallucinogenic trance for hours. But there was always that voice in the back of her mind. If you stop now, you might be able to break free of the habit. But what about the fear attacks? The panic? How could she make that go away?
"You should not do that," said Ivanos. "You need to be of a clean head. The King of Scion has spoken to me again. He ordered me to unite with you. He said you are one of his vanguard. He said we are to lead the trog army and destroy the southern kingdoms."
Vendronia pulled her brows in. "You would do such a thing? To your own kind? Are you not born and bred of a kingdom from the south?"
"Aye, but that kingdom exists no longer, and I've no love for any kingdom or vanguard that serve them any longer. The King of Scion has given me all the purpose I desire. With all the bloodshed and dishonor I've seen across these lands over the last few decades, I'm done with them all. I think this Scion King has the right idea. We need to wash the filth that infests the land and start anew."
Her lips parted in shock. "I haven't heard the King of Scion speak to me but that one time. Why does he not speak to me like he does to you? How can I just take your word on what he says? I need to know it is the right move to make for the trog."
"I... I... I... I cannot answer that, but is this not what you just did to your Varl? You expect the trog to take your word on this Witch-God of yours?" said Ivanos. He grunted in a matter-of-fact display. "I... I... I can only tell you that my testimony is sincere, and I think if you've spoken to the King of Scion even once, you know this is what he wants."
Vendronia stared blankly a hundred or so feet out towards the city above the shore. "Yes. I must give you that. But what is this being? He did not appear to me as a man. He was some dark shadow or wraith. Where or what is this world he claims to exist in? Is it a shadowrealm? A place where the gods or demons walk?"
"I... I... I... I don't know. He said to me this was to make way for his people. So there are people in his world of some kind and he cares about their wellbeing, but he seems to be the conquering sort. All I know is he's very powerful. He's found a way to cross over to our world and interact with it. I've never heard of any magi in my lifetime doing such a thing. I'm ready to do something that matters before I die. This sounds like the best opportunity that could come my way. I've no family and no friends. V... V...V... V-Velvet was my only friend for the longest time. I have a problem trusting men." He raised one brow and glanced at her. "O... O... Or women."
"Fine," she said finally after a moment of silence. She sighed. "We will follow the Scion King. I will make it happen. If he wants us to do his bidding, he should make it easy for us to do so."
29
KAZIMIR
Kazimir sat across from Waulox Pernudrom in the cellar of The Chamber of Wonder and Deviance. They sat at a small table in the corner drinking more kratom tea that Waulox had brought him. Kazimir hadn't brought up the jar in the backroom or the book, but he wanted to know the story behind it. Why did he keep something so rare and historically significant stuffed away in the back room of the cellar? Kazimir had insisted on staying and finding out more, though Xolin and Nochtli had pressed him to leave the city. He had suggested they leave early the night before but finding the hand in the jar had changed things.
"Thank you again, Mirza Pernudrum," said Kazimir. A chill came over him suddenly and he trembled. The cold desert air still lingered in the cellar, despite the noon sun spilling through the upper crevices of the door frame and illuminating motes of dust. "You've been very gracious and compassionate to us in our situation. And I owe you my life for giving me shelter and healing aid. I will find a way to repay you, I promise."
Waulox grinned and gave a curt bow as well as one could while seated. He took a sip from his tea, his face remaining as composed as ever despite the awful taste. Kazimir still winced every time he tasted the horrid brew. Waulox said, "It is important that we keep our kind alive as long as possible. There are so very few intellectuals in the world as it is. Most lords and ladies I've known are imbeciles. Always the ones in charge of the many. By the way, I noticed your use of the Belazonian courtesy mirza. Please just call me Waulox. I'm not that important and certainly have not earned such distinguished titles. And I'm not from Belaz, though I'm acquainted with the northern culture."
Kazimir took another sip of the kratom tea, pulling his lips in and biting down on them. It was so revolting, and it didn't get better with the quantity consumed. "There was something I wanted to ask you about, and I hope I've not been too intrusive given your hospitality."
"Oh?" Waulox tilted his head. "This sounds delightful already. A pry into my personal boundaries? I live for those kinds of questions." He brushed the thin gray hairs back behind his ears and leaned back in the rickety wooden chair. It creaked when he did.
"Last night when I was nursing my--" He almost said 'hand' but he caught himself. "My stump." He rolled his eyes having to say 'stump'. "Well, Nochtli and Xolin were exploring your wondrous treasures down here, and they came across a door in the back."
Waulox's face went stoic. "And they opened it?" he said, his green eyes glowering at him.
Kazimir shifted his back in his chair. "Well. Yes. They didn't intend any harm. I mean. They were just curious. Xolin is, well, a bit compulsive about things and I usually rein him in. I'm terribly sorry. It was inappropriate of us."
Waulox stared him down for an uncomfortable pause. Then his lips curled into a small grin. "It's all right!" He giggled and leaned over the table and patted Kazimir on his hand. "It's mostly junk in there anyway. I don't keep anything the public would care to see down here anyways. And in that room," he gestured towards the door, "That's stuff of no real value to anyone but me. Things I've held onto for sentimental or personal interest reasons."
Some of the taut muscles in Kazimir's neck and shoulders relaxed. "That's good to hear. I was extremely worried we had stepped over our bounds. That being said though, there is a particular item in there that caught our interest. The hand in the jar?"
Waulox smiled and nodded. He leaned back and tugged at his thin chin whiskers. "The red hand, yes. There is a good story behind that one."
"Yes, I'm certain of it!" Kazimir could hardly contain his enthusiasm. He nudged his stump on the edge of the table, jolting a spasm of pain. Xolin glanced over at him, brows raised in concern, and Kazimir regained his composure and said to him, "I'm fine." He continued with Waulox, "I would love to hear it. The story about the hand."
"Yes, well, it's a great story. Some of my colleagues back years ago were rather ambitious collectors. We sought out the rarest and strangest items for the shop we could get our hands-on. Meanwhile, word began to spread, and people started soliciting us with things to sell. Most were not unique, to say the least, but we had a few who would go to great lengths to find items no one had ever seen.
"There was a man who called himself Mott the Witchhunter. Very superstitious, even more so than I. He was a huge man, possibly of trog descent, I couldn't swear to it though. He came to the shop one night right before close and asked me to come outside and have a look in his mule cart. So, I went out to have a look, and he went around the back and opened a small wooden box where he grabbed out something wrapped in a black cloth. He was whispering quite a lot, so I assumed there might have been some foul play involved obtaining whatever it was he had in the black cloth. He ducked into the shadow of his cart and unwrapped it before my eyes. I was confused at first and a bit repulsed, but when I saw the color, the hairs I still had on the back of my scalp stood on end. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had read the stories of the bloodskin shapeshifters, but I had assumed like everyone else, they were extinct. Yet, right there before me was a freshly severed female bloodskin hand still in its werewolf form. I realized at that moment that all the stories were true about the bloodskin women; the stories of their power that came with their bleeding cycle. And, I realized why Mott the Witchunter was being so inconspicuous. If anyone witnessed what he had, there might be a ruckus
of trouble indeed."
"Oh my!" said Xolin, eavesdropping.
"So, he had cut one of their hands off?" Kazimir glanced down at his stump. How ironic it was that they find themselves near a ravnaz hand the same night he had lost his own. He hadn't been much of a religious person himself, but this seemed too much to be a coincidence. Was the Star God taking him on this journey?
"This I cannot say," said Waulox. "I wasn't inclined to pry. He was a callous brute with few moral boundaries. I admit I was a bit afraid of the answer I might get if he disclosed it to me. I do regret that decision even now considering what happened afterward. Safe to say, I was interested in the item as frightened as I was to see it. When I offered him what I thought a steep price he was still very reluctant. I had nothing much more to give him without putting myself on the street. I offered him a payment arrangement. I told him I would give him one hundred gold stars now and another hundred every month for a year upon his visits. He reluctantly consented and like that, I was in possession of the hand.
"It had already begun to smell dreadful, so I cleaned it up and fetched a jar and filled it with silver fluid." Waulox paused until Kazimir nodded his familiarity. "I'm sure you'd be acquainted with silver fluid being involved in the Hall of Alchemy."
"Yes, indeed," said Kazimir. "But we call it methanizol. It's used mostly in our embalming process."
"So fascinating!" said Waulox. "Belazonians are so far ahead of the rest of the world in scientific wonders! I wish I could afford to live in Belaz City.
"It's not all that exciting really," Xolin called back to them from a spot across the cellar where he was writing something in his journal. "It can get quite boring waiting for a scientific wonder to show itself."
Kazimir shrugged with a nod of agreement.
The Vanguards of Scion Page 19