“No!”
Chuckling, Tane turned away to look for his pack. He found it soon enough, pausing to glance inside. Everything appeared to be there, so he headed back to the formation. He saw a bemused Raven still tormenting Quinn, trying to sneak a hand into his pack. The half-elf was proving quite vigilant, in a frantic sort of way.
The sergeant finally ordered Raven to leave Quinn alone, much to her delight and Quinn’s embarrassment. Tane thought the sergeant did it on purpose, because he tried to hide his grin. But a heartbeat later the sergeant was all business, ordering everyone to fall in.
They were marched to new quarters, more to the west and centrally located on the south walls of the city. The Royal Army’s fortified barracks beside Stone Dragon Gate were luxurious compared to their previous quarters. Like before, the barracks hugged the outer walls, but here they had direct access to the battlements. Instead of section-sized bays, they were assigned to platoon-sized bays. The bunks were also a bit longer and wider, with racks to hold their weapons on each end and foot lockers to store their gear and personal property.
Tane quickly found a top bunk and jump up into it. They had fifteen minutes before the supply room opened, where they could draw new boots and anything else lost during their retreat. Of course, the sergeant had warned them to expect to have the cost of anything requisitioned taken out of their pay.
“What are you doing?” Raven said. “That’s my bunk.”
“Not this time,” Tane said. Rubbing his head, “Bottom bunks and me don’t get along too well. Take the next one over.”
Raven scowled, but sat on the lower bunk.
“No, I’ll take the bottom bunk. I don’t mind being on bottom,” she said, and winked at him mischievously. “Besides, I don’t think anyone but you would help me make my bunk.”
Tane chuckled as the Vikon couple gave him a hard look. He didn’t care. He liked helping Raven.
“What now?” Tane asked Quinn as he claimed the next top bunk over. “Our platoon and company are gone. Maybe our whole battalion.”
Quinn immediately stuffed his pack into the foot locker, and produced a brass lock to secure it. Raven gave a scandalized gasp. Quinn snapped the lock closed and gave her a smug look.
“The way I heard it,” Raven said as she got up and strolled over to examine Quinn’s lock. “All the survivors, both auxiliary and regular, are being thrown in together and given a section of wall to defend.”
“What about officers?” Quinn said. He was beside himself with worry of Raven, though trying valiantly to hide the fact. She was bent over with the lock in hand, turning it this way that that. “What company are we assigned to? Who is going to lead us?”
Raven shrugged, though Tane thought her nonchalance a bit forced this time. She only gave the lock a cursory look, then stood to gnaw on her lip a long moment before answering.
“There aren’t enough commissioned and non-commissioned officers who survived the battle to form up proper companies and battalions,” she said. “I heard that officers and sergeants of the army and city guard will be assigned whole sections of walls, and command over anyone fighting there.”
Quinn shook his head woefully.
“Sweet Mother, how did I get myself into this one,” he groaned.
“But we still have each other, lover,” Raven said, winking mischievously at Tane.
“Don’t call me ‘lover!’”
“That’s right,” Armin said, glaring at Raven from the next bunk over. Then a tiny smile played at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Elves call their lovers ‘bondmates.’”
“Don’t encourage her,” Quinn cried, staring incredulously at the grinning Vikon couple.
“No one needs to encourage me, my beloved bondmate,” Raven said softly, surprising everyone in its sincerity. “You could have just left me back on that Godsforsaken battlefield, Quinn. But you didn’t. You saved my life, and I’ll love you forever for that.”
Quinn looked shocked, while Tane decided not to mention it was actually Sergeant Gareth that carried her to safety. Though, if one considered the near battle outside the city walls when the zombies caught up with them, another man might have left her behind. Quinn had saved her that time.
“Get a better lock,” Raven said and tossed the open lock up to Quinn as she returned to her bunk.
They all just gawked. No one had noticed her removing it. Tane was astounded. Did she know some magic spell? It happened too fast for anyone to see.
“Sweet Mother preserve!” Quinn gasped.
Joelle’s laughter rang out, so infectious it even brought a smile to Quinn’s face after a moment, though he fought to hide it. But when Raven turned her attention to cleaning and honing her knife and daggers, everyone else followed suit.
The survivors of the battle had been given the night off to recuperate. The zombies seemed content to wait until morning as well. As for himself, Tane was looking forward to a bath, a hot meal, and a little time in a nearby tavern. Not necessarily in that order.
Tane meticulously cleaned every speck of blood, rust, and grime off his sword and knife, noting with a bit of pride that not one nick desecrated Bearclaw’s edge. Then he disassembled Bearclaw’s wood and leather scabbard, cleaning the moat water, blood, and slime out of the sheepskin lining. After his weapons were taken care of, he turned his attention to his other gear. After he picked up another pair of boots, trousers, and tunic from supply, he headed for the garrison bathhouse with Joelle and Armin.
The bathhouse was a subterranean facility, beneath and fully as large as the parade field. Hot, moist air burst out the door as they entered, driving out the chill that had settled into Tane’s bones even before they fully descended the stairs. There were already hundreds of battle-weary soldiers enjoying the bath, leaving little room to move about. To Tane’s surprise and delight, there were civilians present eager to clean and mend his clothes while he bathed – for a price. He had planned to throw them away, instead of taking on the chore of cleaning out all the blood and sewing up the cuts and tears.
“This sure beats our old open air facility,” Joelle said as she happily stripped off her battle-tattered, blood-gory tunic and trousers. “It’s getting too cold to bathe outside.”
Tane quickly stripped out of his equally gory clothes, handing them over to a young man to clean, along with the requested two crowns copper fee. It was expensive, but Armin said so was food and lodgings during a siege. The city’s inhabitants were all probably fighting just as hard to survive in the city as Tane and the soldiers were on the battlefield and city walls.
The facility wasn’t a proper bathhouse since it only had a single bathing pool and no dedicated steam room, though the whole facility was steaming hot. Ideally, bathers would enter a steam room to apply cleaning unguents and scrape off the sweat and grime of a day’s hard labors. Once their pores ceased excreting dirt, then they would rinse off in a hot pool. That was followed by a quick plunge in a cold water pool that, if Tane understood the concept, closed the pores to keep out dirt. The whole affair should ‘properly’ take an hour or two, and was considered the high point of the day by many city folks, especially Jarlanders and Amazons.
“Why is the water that color?” Tane said, hesitating at the pool’s edge.
The men and women were almost shoulder to shoulder in the waist deep water, some laughing, joking, or flirting, others scrubbing vigorously or gingerly examining puckered wounds. But instead of clean, clear water, they stood and bathed in milky looking water.
“It’s the bar soap the army issues instead of more expensive cleaning oils,” Armin said as he eased into the water, then helped his wife in. “I suppose it doesn’t look ideal for bathing, but better than nothing.”
“It’ll get the worst of the filth off our bodies,” Joelle said, looking amused at Tane’s hesitancy. “Don’t worry; if any drowning vermin find you, I have spells to get rid of them.”
“Vermin?” Tane said, backing away a step. “What k
ind of vermin? Lice? Ticks?”
“Worse! Tyrians!” Raven cried from behind him.
Suddenly a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist. He felt warm, soft breasts pressed against his back and then a playful bite at the base of his neck. He was lifted off the floor and she jumped into the pool. People laughed or shouted angrily at being splashed, but mostly they laughed. Tane thrashed helplessly in the water, held fast by a gleefully laughing Raven.
“Don’t laugh!” Joelle called in mock horror. “The lad’s being attacked by a love-starved Tyrian! Blessed Maag, he doesn’t stand a chance!”
Tane, realizing he was only making a fool of himself, stopped thrashing about and allowed his feet to sink to the bottom. Once grounded, he was able to stand erect and steal away Raven’s leverage. So she hopped onto his back, wrapping arms and legs around him – and bit him playfully just below the ear.
“Raven! Please!” Tane cried, shocked and confused.
He was frozen in place. He felt her breasts pressed into his back, just below the shoulders. And more alarming, her pubic mound was pressed against him as well. He’d never been with a woman. His hands began to tremble as he mind spun out and left him disconcerted.
“I could teach you so much,” she whispered throatily in his ear, while slowly raking her nails across his muscular chest.
She kissed his cheek and nuzzled his ear, before sticking her hot, wet tongue into that same ear. Then one of her hands slid quickly down his belly and plunged into the milky waters, seizing him.
“Raven! NO!” he cried, twisting half around in an effort to escape her.
“Don’t fear, Tane!” Quinn called from beside the pool. “I’ll save you!”
An enormous wave washed over Tane, followed by the feel of Raven being torn from his back. He heard her squeal, then another splash.
“Ha! I did it!” Quinn declared. “I saved my innocent friend from the dragon woman.”
“But who will save you?” Raven asked as she pounced on the half-elf.
Tane laughed, now that he wasn’t the object of Raven’s lecherous attentions. Quinn had the most wonderfully surprised look on his face just before she wrapped her arms around his neck and bore him beneath the water. They came up an instant later, with Raven already laying a determined claim to Quinn’s lips. He struggled, but even Tane could see it was at best half-hearted. Within a dozen heartbeats the half-elf wasn’t even trying to stop Raven.
“Doesn’t look like Quinn wants saving,” Armin observed with a wide grin.
Their hands were beginning intimate explorations of each other bodies. Tane was surprised no one complained, though a few were frowning at them.
“I can’t believe I tried to fight her off,” Tane said. Watching his two friends slowly moving into a position that could only result in sex, he felt his face burn and throat tighten. He was such a fool. Now Quinn would reap all the benefits of Raven’s insatiable carnal appetite. “I must have temporarily lost my mind.”
Joelle chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s better this way, my friend. Much better. I think Quinn is better able to handle someone like Raven.”
“She would have eaten you alive, boy,” Armin said, though still grinning.
Raven let out groan of unadulterated pleasure.
“I know,” Tane said wistfully, and they all laughed.
Chapter 38
The night was as cold as any Nizar had known, and wetter than most. He wryly recalled when he held the belief that any land so blessed with rain had to be paradise. Now all he wanted to do was return to his native desert, to feel its hot sun and dry winds on his skin.
“At least I’m out of that Godsforsaken forest,” he muttered, glancing about to ensure no one was within hearing distance.
It was still early, barely an hour past sundown, and the streets of Kestsax were teeming. Many of those moving about were heavily armed soldiers. From overheard conversations he knew the survivors of the forest battle had been given time off to relax and enjoy themselves. A poor reward for what they suffered, but one that might aid him in his mission.
Stepping deeper into the night shadows, he pulled the dagger and spoke the prayer. As commanded, the dagger pointed toward Tane’s position. It hesitated, though, alarming him. But there was nothing he could do, for the rain was washing the blood away. When it stopped raining the blood would dry and flake away anyway. Soon, maybe even by morning, the dagger would be useless to him. And to add insult to injury, the swordsmith was safely behind the guarded gates of the Stone Dragon Garrison.
“Damn you, Taliope,” he muttered under his breath. He had thought himself so clever when he tricked the defenders atop the city walls into lowering a rope to him, but the Goddess of Chance quickly spoiled his victory by hiding the swordsmith inside the strongest, and most heavily warded, garrison in Kestsax. “I will enjoy desecrating Your temples most of all, and shall celebrate Your ultimate defeat with true gusto.”
For a moment he wavered. Should he remain there, hoping Tane Kyleson would leave the safety of the garrison? Or should he return to the Forest Haven Inn? A hot meal was more enticing than the prospect of standing for hours in the cold rain.
I have to be vigilant. I must have faith in my Divine Master, Nizar thought, setting his jaw firmly. He will find a way for me...
He froze in place, not even daring to take a breath. Could it be? Had his prayers been answered?
“Yes!” Nizar said, black eyes intent on the woman sauntering out the gate.
It was her, the raven-haired woman who marched beside Tane Kyleson. She had traded her uniform for white blouse, red breeches, and black thigh boots under a red woolen cloak, thrown back over her right shoulder, but she was the one who marched with the swordsmith. She was the brazen vixen who had stripped away his veil as she marched past. And she was all alone.
You shall pay for shaming me, harlot, he thought as she grew nearer. A dozen different schemes filled his head. Through you, I will capture your comrade. I will force you to betray him, and then sacrifice you to my terrible God afterwards.
Nizar watched her walk past. Never had he seen a woman so full of herself. Never had he seen a woman so shamelessly sure of her own sex appeal. The harlot wasn’t walking so much as strutting. And she winked at every man to make eye contact with her, and pinched two others on the rump in passing.
Shameful.
As a former thief and cutpurse, Nizar could discern a dozen men and two women just within sight who were looking for just such prey. She didn’t seem to notice, and acted as if she owned the street. Several covertly moved to intercept her in a darker, less populated section of the street. Nizar saw no way to save her, and felt bitterness starting to well up once again.
Then she turned into a rowdy tavern and vanished. The men who had marked her as their own gave up and began looking for other prey.
“Taliope, you have been thwarted yet again,” he thought, nonchalantly making for the tavern.
Stepping into the tavern, Nizar was struck by a wave of heat and bright lanterns. The noise was incredible after the relative quiet of the street. He paused to allow his eyes to adjust, taking the opportunity to hang his wet cloak on a peg near the large fireplace. There was a lamb roasting over the fire, but his congested nose kept him from enjoying the familiar aroma.
The tavern was packed with a rambunctious crowd, mostly off-duty soldiers and city guardsmen. Tavern girls in gaudy jewelry and skimpy dancing silks flirted with the men, trying to lure them upstairs for more lucrative, for them anyway, activities. In all, Nizar estimated there were some sixty women in the tavern, all but a handful were tavern girls.
“Tschüss!” the black-haired vixen called from atop a table. The traditional Tyrian greeting was answered by a dozen throats. “I am Raven and I have ten crowns saying I can out throw anyone in a game of daggers!”
Nizar ordered a mug of wine and watched as Raven made good on her boast. Six men and one woman lost before she exhausted her supply
of victims. Then she entered a game of dice and lost it all, plus all of what she carried into the tavern. Grumbling about “enchanted dice,” she eventually found her way to the bar next to Nizar.
“What’ll ya have?” the barkeep asked.
“Hmmm, let me think. What do I want?” she said, slanting looks both ways to size up the men at the bar. Nizar moved closer, before another could get between himself and her. Seeing him easing up beside her, she looked straight into his eyes and said, “I’m awful thirsty....”
“Allow me,” Nizar said. “A woman of such obvious breeding surely desires a fine wine to satiate her thirst.”
Raven’s bright green eyes looked him over with relish. Nizar was taken aback, having never been looked upon with such carnal desire. Scorn, contempt, disgust, was what he was used to seeing in the eyes of women. Even brazen harlots, as Raven so obviously was, rarely gave him a second look.
“I like you,” she purred, eyes turning mischievous as she offered her hand to be kissed. “My friends call me Raven.”
Nizar was taken aback. Hand kissing was a disgusting custom of the Tyrian and Jarlander noble classes. The Gods only knew where her hand had been, what she had touched. And now she wanted him to kiss it!
“I am honored, my lady,” he said, though thinking, The things I endure for the greater glory of my God. “I am Nizar al-Sayyid.”
He gently took her hand, raising his veil just enough to give it a quick peck. In that same lightning move as before, Raven ripped his veil away again, shamefully exposing his mouth. Her laughter rang out at the look on his face. Face burning in shame, he fought the urge to cover his mouth with a hand. She now owned his veil, and didn’t seem inclined to return it.
“Look at that, boys! Murder in his eyes!” Raven crowed, clapping her hands in delight. She then surprised him by easing up close, and saying in a husky voice, “You have the most dangerous eyes I’ve ever seen. They scare me like no others.”
Belly of the Beast Page 16