by Ivy Cross
But, by the gods, is she fast. I have seen her outpace a Valat without breaking a sweat, and since her Proving, I do not think there has been a more valuable warrior on my team.
My former team… It will take some time to get used to that.
“You have heard true,” I say, offering her what I hope is a genuine-looking smile. “But I imagine little will change under Laca’s capable leadership.”
Vel shakes her head vigorously, whipping her dark dreadlocks with enough force to challenge the clacking shell chimes. “That is what you think. He is not yet even commander and already that blowhard is twice as cocky and three times as full of himself.”
Several of the other guards offer hardy laughs to that.
“Did I hear someone say my name?” Laca steps out of the hut’s front door carrying two large clay pitchers.
“That depends,” Vel says, “do you respond to cocky blowhard now?”
“That is Commander cocky blowhard to you.” He puts one of the large pitchers down in the center of each table, then pours himself a jug. “Or, at least, it soon will be. And that is why we are all gathered here.” He holds up his jug in my direction. “It seems like it was only a cycle ago—”
I hold up a hand. “Absolutely no speeches.”
Laca screws up his face in an expression of mock disappointment. “Speeches are my favorite part…”
“We all know,” Vel groans. “Tell you what, I will do it.” She holds her jug out to the full length of her tiny arm. “Here is to the boss. May he find peace far from Laca and his never-ending jabbering”
The gathered warriors toss back their drinks and slam their clay jugs to the table as one.
I catch Vel’s eye and give her a nod. “Good speech.”
Laca sniffs. “You should have heard what I was going to say… there would not have been a dry eye here. Even those from outside of the village would have lined up to hear such a farewell speech retold.”
“Look,” Vel says with a smirk. “Here comes some of them right now.”
I turn to see two more of my former guards marching toward the area. The sight of them raises my hackles and causes me to stand at once. If they are here, it means they had to leave their assigned posts… and that does not happen without a very good cause.
“Commander Atrae.”
I nod at each of the men in turn. “Krue, Ijeb.” It does not escape my notice that these two guards are two of only four that were appointed by Jaha and not me. Nor does it escape my notice that I am still greeted as commander.
“There is a problem,” I say. It is not a question.
Krue looks quickly to his partner before rifling inside a leather pouch at his hip. He finds what he is looking for and drops it to the table with a loud clack.
It is Llea’s talisman. Bailey’s talisman now. The blade glistens with a thick sheen of dark red blood.
“What is the meaning of this?” My tone is sharp enough to bring both men to full attention.
Krue clears his throat and projects his words loud enough for the whole group to hear. “Guard Yrast has been slain, and one of the captive females is also dead.”
A chill as cold as a stone knife scrapes down my spine. There is no question as to which female is dead. The evidence lies on the table before me. Gods, I must be a curse to all who encounter me…
Yrast, though? What possible connection could he have to all of this? He was another of the guards appointed solely by Jaha—and not because of his fighting prowess or work ethic. The loutish oaf’s only claim to his position stemmed from his blood relation to the Jaha himself.
“Where is her body?”
“At Yrast’s hut,” Krue answers.
I shake my head, unable to follow. “That does not make sense. What reason could there have been to move her to Yrast’s hut? Were the other females moved there as well?”
“They—they were not.”
I take a sudden step forward, forcing both men to shrink back a step. “There is something you are holding back from me.”
“We have said all that Jaha has permitted us to say,” Krue says. At least the pained expression on his face says that he finds such half-speak distasteful.
“Very well then. I will go to Yrast’s hut at once. I would like to examine the bodies for myself.”
“No,” both guards say at once. “Sir,” Krue adds. “Jaha wanted us to bring you to him immediately. You see, the situation has become complicated. Regar of the Vanthae tribe has arrived.”
Chapter 11 – Bailey
“Can you slow down? My legs are going to fall off if I have to keep up this pace.”
The barrel-chested guard doesn’t bother to respond or look back at me. He just gives my arm another hard yank and keeps up his power walk.
My only choice is to keep running or collapse and be dragged along behind the mountainous man like a rag doll.
Several more minutes of running, my legs burning all the way up to my sides, and the guy finally starts to slow in front of a rundown looking hut. I suck in air as fast as my aching lungs will let me.
He doesn’t give me long before dragging me the rest of the way up to the hut. Shattered clay pots and bones litter the way to the door. It would be easy to imagine some monstrous troll living inside, picking his teeth with the bones of his victims and tossing them out the front door as a warning to any who might trespass.
I stare at the back of the hairy, brutish guard. Maybe that whole troll thing isn’t so far off…
“Get inside.”
I’m not sure why he bothered with the instructions. He doesn’t wait for me to move under my own power, opting to simply heave me through the doorway like a sack of dirty laundry.
Dirty laundry isn’t very far off from the smell inside the dimly lit hut. It’s stale and sour like body odor and old fried food. Like outside, the interior is a wreck. Bits of old meals, broken furniture, and overturned pitchers decorate nearly the entire surface of the hut’s floor. If his home is an accurate representation of the man’s mind, I’m in for a shitshow of the highest fucking order.
“You know they were lying,” I say as he uses his body to press me further toward the back of the first room. “They were the ones plotting escape… you probably shouldn’t have left them alone back there.”
“Shut up.”
He continues coaxing me along until we get to what seems to be his bedchamber. Though, aside from having some ragged-looking mat near the back wall, it looks exactly like the previous room… even down to the bone scraps.
“Disrobe,” he commands. “I doubt the timid females will try anything while I am away, but I still do not want to waste any time.”
“Why would I disrobe?” I try. I’m not stupid, but maybe I can stall him until someone comes along… or his house rots down around us. “I thought I was here to be separated from the other two.”
His fist connects with the middle of my back out of nowhere, buckling my knees and sending me sprawling down onto the garbage-laden floor. Sharp bones and detritus slice into my hands as I try, and fail, to catch myself. I just stay there, breathing in the stink from close up.
“Do not test me, female! Disrobe or I will rip those filthy rags from your body.”
I hear him shift behind me, and I roll over before he can do any more damage to my back.
“Don’t you think Jaha will be upset when he finds out what you’ve done?” I flit my eyes around the room, looking for a possible route of escape, but the guard’s bulk blocks the only exit. There’s not even a window to crawl through—not that I would likely be able to get enough distance between us to try it anyway.
The guard stares down at me with cruelty and lust fighting for control over his expression. “I do not fucking care what the old man will think. I am only biding my time before I join with the Qarna. They are prosperous and strong. The Calji and Jaha are dead but too stupid or blind to see it.” He raises his meaty hand into the air above me again to punctuate his statement.
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I hold a hand up and slowly climb back to my feet. My only chance here is to get creative…
The ick factor is enough to make my gorge rise, but I slip my pants down around my bare feet and step out of them. They’re the same joggers I was wearing back when this strange nightmare began, and I’m not wearing any underwear beneath.
The bastard’s eyes snap down to my crotch like they’re two magnets and my pussy is solid iron. The feeling of them there gives me the same sensation as having rope pulled through my clenched teeth.
“Do you know what I am?” I try my most alluring voice, which is difficult to balance against the desire to puke on the dickhead’s shorty leathers.
“Jaha says you and the others are Naia,” he replies, not raising his eyes to meet mine. “But that is kiddy nonsense…”
“Brains and brawn.” I take a step closer to him and reach out to brush my fingers down his bare chest. If I try really hard, I can pretend I’m petting a dog with bristly hair. “We are humans. Do you know what that means?”
“I have not heard of your kind.” The guard’s voice becomes a hoarse whisper.
“We are known as bringers of great pleasure,” I say, continuing to stroke his greasy chest hair. “Human means sex goddess.”
The guard grunts knowingly. “I knew there was something about your kind. I could smell it.” He gropes a hand toward me, but I pull back out of reach.
“Not like that.”
“Do not try to tell me—”
“If you let me,” I purr, “I can help you feel something you can’t even imagine—an ecstasy that will never end. Do you want that?”
His face darkens a little, and he doesn’t say anything. But he also doesn’t try to paw me again, either.
“Good. You won’t have to wait much longer for what you want. But for this to work—for you to get everything you want—I need you to do as I say.”
Another grunt, but no outright refusal.
“Remove your leathers.”
No hesitation. The guard unbuckles his leathers and lets them drop to the floor to lie among the garbage. And the greasy chest hair is just the tip of the iceberg. The guy looks like a poorly groomed sheepdog all the way down.
I press a hand to the lower part of his chest and suppress a shudder of disgust. “Kneel before me and close your eyes.”
His massive hand closes over mine and he yanks me closer. “I am tired of waiting. No more games.”
“Trust me. It will be worth it.”
He continues to grumble but drops to his knees obediently.
“Now your eyes.”
The moment his eyes reluctantly close, I slip my hand into my shirt and grasp the cool metal of Atrae’s dagger. I inch it out of its sheath, trying like hell not to let it make a sound, and then bring it down to my side.
I suck in a long breath that seems to burn inside my chest. “You’re going to love this part,” I say, placing my free hand on his shoulder.
There’s no going back from here.
I swing the dagger out toward the part of his neck I hope houses his jugular. I see the whole thing like it's in high contrast and slow motion. The silver blade shoots through the air like an expertly fired arrow, its tip seeming to home in on the exact spot I want to strike.
Only, the knife doesn’t make it to the guard’s throat.
I squeal in pain as the guard’s massive hand crunches down onto my wrist.
“Lying whore!” His bellow shakes my skull. “Betray me? I will teach you to betray—”
It happens before I even know I am going to do it. The guard squeezes my wrist again like he plans to break it, and I kick him with every ounce of strength in my body. If this were kickball, the ball wouldn’t even be on the field anymore. But it’s not kickball, and the only balls in question are the ugly soft bits I’m pretty sure are now lodged up somewhere near the hairy guard’s throat.
He drops even lower to the floor with a squeal of pain of his own. He releases his grip on my wrist and covers his crotch with both hands.
I don’t give him any chance to recover.
I stab the dagger right into the side of his throat. I’m surprised by how easy the blade slides in—it’s like there’s no resistance, and the blade buries in to the hilt with no effort at all.
Rich red blood sprays out halfway across the room. The guard doesn’t make any sound at all, choosing to continue holding his mangled manhood instead of worrying about the dagger hanging out of his neck.
He falls dead on his garbage-covered floor before I even have my joggers pulled back on.
Chapter 12 – Atrae
I drum my fingers against the smooth wood of the railing outside Jaha’s hut. The wood has been worn by the hands of the hundreds of audience-seeking villagers who have had to wait out here over the cycles. Things like honor disputes, challenges, and, on rarer occasions, crime bring at least a few souls to stand out here each day.
It has been a long time since my status was low enough to keep me waiting here. As commander of the guard, I came and went as I pleased…
Yet, here I wait.
The door finally cracks open, but only enough to allow Krue to stick his head out. “They are just finishing,” the guard says in a hushed tone. “Ijeb and I are to escort Regar and his contingent to see the females. Jaha will soon follow after, but he wishes to discuss an important matter with you as soon as we have Regar away.”
He leans his head a little further out and continues in a whisper. “I overheard one of Regar’s men talking about stars falling from the sky several nights ago… many of them. At least one of them fell very near the Vanthae village. Regar thinks it may be a sign from the gods.” He scoffs. “I think Regar may not be all there.”
I keep my own opinion on the matter to myself. Bailey said her people came from the sky in strange vessels. It is not something I can understand, but what Regar says seems to line up with her story… and it possibly means more of her kind are near the Vanthae village.
I grunt my acknowledgment of Krue’s words and hold the younger man with my gaze. “You will tell me what you know of the other matter, Krue. You know well I do not like being caught unaware.”
Krue’s brow knits enough to age his face a dozen cycles. “Jaha forbade us from speaking on the subject…” The stress of choosing between disappointing his former commander or disobeying his leader strains Krue’s voice into a high whine. “If you only wait a little longer, Jaha will tell you all.”
On a normal day, I would let it stand at that. Krue’s involvement in this is likely not by choice, and he has never done me a wrong deed in the past. But I resigned my post and Jaha still calls on me… these are not normal times.
And Bailey’s blood-soaked talisman still hangs heavy at my side.
Krue hesitates, then starts to pull back inside.
“I suppose my resignation has changed things between us,” I say, causing the man to stall his retreat once again. “And perhaps a debt of honor means little between a member of the guard and a mere commoner.”
Krue’s eyes flash, and he pulls the door open fully.
It is a cheap tactic. Serving alongside the others as long as I have, there have been plenty of opportunities to come to one another’s aid in crisis. We have all saved each other a hundred times over—tribal skirmishes, Valat runs, and full out raids—we have shed blood and had our blood shed together.
But Krue owes me a debt of honor that goes deeper.
During his first cycle among the guard, Krue managed to get his younger brother, Jiin, appointed as a bearer-boy to Jaha for one of the lavish year-end hunts. It was a great honor for his family—both brothers in the service of the leader. Such things are not common within the tribe.
Even then, our village was already in its downward spiral. The Qarna had picked at us for some time, but their efforts were always small in scale—nighttime runs to plunder and harry, nothing more.
This year-end hunt, however, was one of the first time
s their warriors made it known they could be more than a handful of petty thugs. They could be organized, numerous, and devastating…
Our group’s forescouts were cut off and slaughtered before we even knew the Qarna were there. And by the time their war party’s presence became obvious, Jaha and my guard unit were pinched in.
Krue’s young brother, under the burden of Jaha’s abundant hunting gear, eventually fell away from our pack as we dug out our retreat.
And that should be the end of the story and the end of Jiin. It so very nearly was, too. I knew my duty to Jaha well, and I had no intention of breaking our escape to go after a single boy.
It was the clearing that made all the difference. It allowed me to gain sight of the child, even still struggling to drag the heavy hunting packs along behind him. I knew that I should just let the youngling fall—his impending death was at least in part due to his own stupidity. Had he dropped the packs, he likely could have kept up the pace.
But I chanced to glimpse the child’s eyes. They were rimmed with fear, white and shining in the glow of the moonlight. The fear would have been in anyone’s eyes in that position, but it was the grim determination that I gleaned there that set my feet in motion. The child’s mind was fixed. He would trudge on with his heavy load until he was killed or made it to safety.
Looking in reverse, my decision to go back for the child can be seen as a misstep during my reign as commander of the guard. I did not put the life of my leader above all else. But I cannot bring myself to regret the decision, and that even puts a finer edge on the pain I feel for what happened to Llea. What I chose to let happen to her.
“You would have me jeopardize my position just so that you might hear the facts a moment sooner?” Krue hisses in frustration. “Jaha will tell you what happened in only a moment.”