Of Blood and Steel

by Seymour Zeynalli

  “Oh, yeah, I think I am starting to see the resemblance,” Ziya confirmed.

  Arda scooped up the child and began feeding her some milk. “He is very protective of us.”

  “I understand.”

  Ziya turned to Arda and whispered to her quietly “Is he always this quiet?”

  “You’re not,” replied Balak, overhearing Ziya’s question.

  “What my grandfather was trying to say is that listening is the best way to learn,” Arda told Ziya. She gave Balak a scornful look when Ziya wasn’t looking.

  “What you did for us was very brave,” Arda told Ziya, as she attempted to change the subject.

  “My lady, the possibility of facing an entire army of drunk soldiers doesn’t scare me.”

  “What does?”

  Ziya’s expression turned sour and he bowed his head and said softly, “Spiders.”

  “Spiders? Are you serious?” Arda repeated in laughter.

  “Don’t laugh. Have you seen those nasty little buggers?” Ziya tried to justify his fears. “Especially when they’re hairy, are bigger than your hand, and jump at you.”

  “And still, I didn’t imagine that spiders would scare you most,” Arda laughed again. She placed the snoozing baby back in her basket and sipped the hot drink that Balak had given her.

  Ziya also sipped his drink, but almost spat it out as Arda caught his eye again, still amused by the spider discussion. They both laughed.

  The baby began to cry. Arda turned her head towards the child and began to calm her down. “It’s all right, little one,” she said in a soothing voice.

  “What is wrong with her? Is she hungry?” asked Ziya, attentively.

  “I doubt, I just fed her,” Arda replied.

  “Sing her a lullaby then,” Ziya suggested. “Balak, do you know any songs?”

  “I know many songs,” replied Balak.

  “Well, don’t hold back, sing us one.”

  “I can’t sing.”

  “But you said . . .”

  “You asked if I know any songs not if I can sing.”

  “Is he always like this?” asked Ziya.

  “It’s fine, I can sing,” Arda stated as she began to reprise the song from her memory, the Maiden Tower Princess. It was an emotional song of a princess who had to marry a prince she didn’t love. She told him she would marry him if he would build her the largest tower in all of Tartaurus. Once the tower was built, she jumped off the roof to her death.

  Both men sat and enjoyed the song. When it had finished, all three noticed the baby stopped crying.

  “It’s a beautiful song.”

  “My mother used to sing it to us.”

  “Where is she now?” Ziya asked.

  Arda looked at the child again and started telling her story:

  “We were in Elbrus when it all happened. I was awakened by my mother who told me to quietly pack the bags of food. We began packing when dad came back. He wiped the blood from his sword, and told us we needed to leave right away. I didn’t care to ask then, because I knew it would only slow us down. We made our way halfway through the empty city streets when we heard the alarm. When the king died, his allies and enemies began to fight for the city. I couldn’t tell one from the other. Dad escorted us to the nearest stable. My mother sat us on the horse and made it obvious she wouldn’t be joining us. She told me to ride to the Iron Gates and never look back. We rode as far west as we could. But I knew I couldn’t have made it entirely on my own. So, I met my grandpa and told him what happened. I don’t know if my parents are still alive but I hope to reconnect with them once more,” Arda finished her story and inhaled deeply.

  “I am sorry if my question opened any unhealed wounds. If I were there, I might have been able to protect you and your family,” Ziya told Arda. He was looking deep into her eyes and she instantly blushed. They paused for a moment and she couldn’t help but stare back into his golden eyes.

  “You don’t exactly strike me as a warrior type. You don’t even have a sword,” Balak interrupted.

  “Some fight with iron, I fight with fire in my heart,” Ziya noted.

  “Ha,” smirked Balak. “Have you ever even been in a fight?” Balak asked.

  “I have fought the living . . .” Ziya interrupted Balak and leaned towards Arda sitting next to his left, “. . . and the dead.”

  “Is this another one of your wild tales?” Balak objected. Arda scowled in his direction.

  “How do the dead fight?” Arda asked.

  Ziya got comfortable and began unravelling his story “I have seen them rise from their own graves. They don’t feel fear or pain; thus, they have no need for armour or shields. And they will keep coming at you again and again.”

  “So how do you stop them?” Arda asked, moving closer to him.

  “You can’t. You just cut off their limbs and hope it will be enough.”

  “How many dead men have you fought?” Arda asked.

  “Oh, not just men.” Ziya said, turning his head to Arda.

  “Dragons?” Arda whispered with amazement and Ziya nodded in agreement.

  “Dragons? A liar will always find what to say,” Balak growled. He poked at the fire with a stick and threw on some of the wood Ziya had collected. It cracked and spluttered as it burned the moss that clung to its flakey surface.

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Did I stutter? Or does the truth burn your ears?” Balak asked curtly.

  “I have lost friends making sure the dead stayed in their graves. You wouldn’t have been standing here if it wasn’t for them.”

  “Why don’t you come here and tell me all about it?”

  Ziya stood up and made his way to face Balak. Ziya was short, even shorter than Arda but his confidence could have easily filled the entire mountain range.

  “Do I need to remind you that I let you win that arm contest?”

  Arda rushed to put herself between the two men. “Enough! Both of you. You are going to wake up the child.”

  “You are lucky she came to save you,” said Ziya before turning around and making his way to the opposite side of the fire, closer to his camel.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Balak growled as Ziya continued walking. Balak then turned to Arda and told her, “He is nothing but trouble. Are you sure we can trust him?”

  “He helped us at the tavern. We owe him that much. Who knows what would have happened if he didn’t intervene,” Arda stated.

  “Fine. But don’t make me regret it,” Balak growled abruptly before they were interrupted by a soft scream.

  “Keep it down,” Arda whispered loudly to Ziya.

  “Sorry.” Ziya said. “I just saw a spider.”

  Balak looked at Arda judgingly before heading to sleep. He rolled his eyes and turned his back to the fire. The leaves rustled and waved gently back and forth above his head. The tree branches looked like huge arms about to grab him.

  “Balak . . .” Arda whispered. She wanted to say something, but she was too tired to argue. When he didn’t answer, she snuggled against the child’s basket and attempted to get some sleep.

  Balak lay with one eye open as a calm, chilly wind blew at his face. Balak watched Ziya as he slept. He could hear Ziya quietly snoring. Balak sprayed some water on his face to keep himself awake. But slowly, Balak began to fall asleep.

  — CHAPTER EIGHT —

  Nightingale

  The birds chirped a sweet song above Balak’s head. A few rays of light poked through the gray clouds that filled the sky, and through the tree branches.

  Balak jerked and sat up. He looked around but he was alone. Perplexed, he lunged to his feet. Arda’s possessions were there, but there was no Arda. There was no child, camel, or Ziya either.

  “Arda,” Balak shouted, but there was no reply.

  He grabbed his double-headed axe and crouched to the ground, touching the tracks in the dirt. He followed the fresh, gentle footprints into the forest, and down a muddy bank. T
he air was warm, but smoggy with a hint of moss and as Balak tracked Arda’s trail, the mud got deeper and wetter.

  At the bottom, he arrived at a dirt track, and he heard the sound of running water. Then, he was startled by the sound of high-pitched screams. Three in total. He broke into a run and ran along the uneven path, clutching at his axe. As he got closer, he heard them again and ran directly towards the source. The path stopped at the stream’s edge.

  He looked into the water, and there was Arda and the child. Arda was running and kicking the water, splashing at Ziya who was dipping his feet in the water, still wearing his sleeved jacket in the smouldering heat. They were laughing and smiling, with bright eyes.

  “Balak,” Arda chuckled with a surprised look. “Did you sleep well?”

  “You should be more cautious. You may attract unwanted attention,” he scolded.

  “Don’t worry, I will keep her safe,” Ziya reassured Balak.

  Balak frowned and shook his head. He turned and headed back to camp.

  Ziya stepped out of the water and helped Arda. They all walked back to the camp to collect the rest of their things in silence.

  Arda stayed beside Ziya. Balak tried to get her attention but she avoided eye contact. As they packed up their things, Balak spoke.

  “Arda, I need to speak with you.”

  “Then speak,” Arda said, abruptly.

  “Alone.”

  Arda’s eyes met Balak’s. She headed quickly away from Ziya. Balak followed.

  “If you may, make it quick,” Arda stated.

  “I can’t guarantee you or the child’s safety if you wander off and draw attention to yourself,” Balak started, before noticing that Arda was laughing, watching Ziya distracting her behind his back.

  “Would you stop acting like a fucking child and listen?” Balak shouted in anger. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” he snarled.

  “I think you are forgetting that I am the one paying you. My word is final. He stays with us.”

  “So be it.”

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “And what would you do if he betrays you?”

  “I have a spear.”

  “You are armed but you aren’t trained. I have seen you using it. If we are being completely blunt, I don’t think you even know how to use it.”

  “What is there to learn? Just point and stab,” Arda protested.

  “Let me teach you. If I can’t protect you, you should learn how to protect yourself.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Arda said, offering her spear. “Go ahead.”

  Balak took it.

  “A spear is a good weapon to keep your enemies at bay. You should always aim for the neck.” He brandished the spear and poked it forward, in a diagonal movement. “It’s not the easiest place to aim for, but the neck is soft and easy to puncture.”

  Arda watched Balak as he demonstrated.

  “You need to bend your knees, and joust forward,” he told her. “Your turn.” He handed her the spear.

  Arda crouched slightly and sprung up, pushing the spear forward in an upward movement.

  “Not bad, but go for me; take it slow to learn the technique. Go for the neck.” This time Balak stood in front of her. She crouched again and poked the spear towards his neck, slowly.

  “Good. Good. Now, keep practicing and this time with force. Once you’ve got the force, you can work on speed.”

  Arda practiced a few more times.

  “That’s all for now. We’ll keep working on it,” Balak told her.

  “What about the other end?”

  “What?”

  “A spear has two ends, Balak, and you haven’t showed me what to do with the other.”

  “That side is for hitting stuff. You can manage that one all on your own.”

  Arda walked back over to the camp and scooped up her satchel.

  “This way,” Balak told Arda.

  Balak walked in front while Arda walked next, with the child, followed by Ziya and his camel.

  Balak walked cautiously as they passed through the mountains. There were very few trees, even fewer than yesterday, but the bumpy lands meant that views at the side and in front were limited. The grass started to turn yellow and brown. Balak began crouching and checking tracks and listening. They walked along a passage between two small hills. Other than the twittering and whistling of birds, there was a strange silence that didn’t feel quite natural.

  “Stay close,” Balak whispered to Arda and Ziya. He kept one hand on his axe, it was too late to turn back now.

  Suddenly, they heard the roars of men. They were surrounded.

  “Bandits. It’s an ambush,” yelled Balak.

  The men came running towards them from all sides. Balak pushed Arda back towards Ziya and readied himself with his axe. His knees were bent as men charged at him, wielding swords.

  “Hold this.” Ziya handed her the camel’s reigns. “And stay behind me.”

  Balak and Ziya began fighting with the bandits. Balak took the men attacking from behind while Ziya took those in front. Arda stood still. She was out of the way but in between her companions.

  “Retreat,” Balak yelled. “There’re too many.”

  Arda started towards Balak with Ziya and the camel. Balak headed back through the passage, slaying the bandits who stood in his path.

  “Come on,” he shouted.

  Arda looked up at the hillside. “Watch out!” she yelled to Balak.

  Ziya ran towards him at speed, and with a loud crack, large rocks and boulders started to rain down on Balak. Ziya dived and speared his own shoulders into Balak’s stomach, sending the two flying through the air, and crashing to the ground with a thump.

  The rocks and boulders continued to fall, blocking their way through the passage. They scrambled to their feet but Arda’s face disappeared in the dust.

  As the dust settled, Balak and Ziya charged forward, but a colossal wall of rock blocked the passage. Ziya raised his fists and punched the wall repeatedly.

  “Kamala!” he roared.

  Balak stood up and turned Ziya by the shoulder. He put his finger to his lips, indicating for Ziya to stay silent.

  They heard the voices of men getting louder. Suddenly they heard barking and howling drawing closer. The child began to cry. Footsteps padded towards the wall in pursuit of the dogs.

  “Look what we have here,” A deep voice said. “Grab the girl. And that strange horse. Take them to the camp.”

  Ziya slid down the wall of rock and buried his head in his hands. As the footsteps padded away, everything was silent.

  “It is all my fault,” Ziya said.

  “You can say that again. How could you be so fuckin’ stupid to walk into a trap?”

  “Me? If I recall correctly, you were the one who led us through that passage.”

  “I didn’t ask to be pushed.”

  “I was trying to save you,” Ziya argued.

  “Save me? And who is gonna save the girl?”

  Ziya didn’t reply.

  Balak paced back and forth. “We have to find Arda. Get on your feet and let’s go. We’ll go ‘round.”

  The passage was too high climb, so they backtracked their way back along the passage and looked for a suitable place to climb.

  “Over there,” Ziya pointed to a low point on the hillside. “We should be able to get up that way.”

  They climbed up onto the hillside, and Balak headed to where the bandits had attacked. They followed the passage along from the top of the hillside and to the end of the pass. Balak crouched down and examined the ground.

  “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “They cleared their tracks,” he told Ziya.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Means what I said it means! They cleared their tracks.”

  “So how do we find them now?”

  “We will have to scout the whole area in hopes of finding a trail. We will do half circl
es in each direction. We will broaden our range in the intervals of 10 feet until we find something.”

  “But there are only two of us. This could take days.”

  “You got better ideas?”

  Ziya said nothing

  “That’s what I thought,” Balak growled.

  The two stood quietly with only the whistle of birds breaking the silence. Ziya slowly turned to Balak and gave him the largest grin Balak had ever seen.

  “This way!” called Ziya as he rushed past Balak.

  “Hold on.” Balak said as he grabbed Ziya stopping him in his tracks. “I don’t have time for your antics. Stay here and be quiet if you wish to help,” Balak hurled.

  “You want my help? Then follow me and try to keep up.” Ziya argued before storming off. Balak begrudgingly followed as they headed through the mountain path.

  They crept through a wooded area, staying low to the ground. It dipped into valley, and they entered a grassy area. Balak looked around, stroked his beard, and examined the ground.

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “Shh!” Ziya said, raising his finger to his lips. “Just listen.”

  Balak quieted but he could only hear birds flying above and twittering.

  “We need to head north,” Ziya told him.

  “And who told you that? The birds?” Balak snapped.

  “I heard whistles right before the attack. They must have designed a whole language around whistling. This isn’t as strange as you might think. I have seen people communicate with nothing but their hand motions back . . .”

  “Let me guess . . . Netheria.”

  “Exactly, now move a little faster, old man.”

  Balak sighed and continued to follow. He was out of options.

  Suddenly, Ziya stopped.

  “Take a look at this.” He pointed down at some fresh camel tracks. “You are not going to congratulate me?” asked Ziya with pride.

  “That didn’t take skills. You got lucky. Now, let’s go kill those men.”

  — CHAPTER NINE —

  The Company of Fleeing Men

  A thick smog of smoke and damp air moved around the camp, creeping into even the tiniest crevice. The uncomfortable air was freezing, but the smoke was gritty and harsh. Arda sat by the fire and could hear a loud noise somewhere deep within the cave, but she could identify it.