Captive of a Fairytale Barbarian

by Elizabeth Gannon

  The girl looked at the potted flower for a moment, then she reached out to deliberately snap it in half, killing it.

  Just to force a confrontation with him.

  Kobb silently looked at the corpse of his beloved plant for a moment, then picked up the severed stalk and placed it into a thin clay vase. He repositioned it so that it was standing upright, then smiled happily, looking genuinely pleased with how much color the cut flower added to his room.

  The girl’s eyes narrowed in irritated fury at Kobb, searching for some new place on him which she could despise the most.

  He reached for another potted flower and calmly placed it on the table in front of her. “This is called a ‘Salt Rose.’” He smiled in either complete serenity or outright challenge. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  The girl stormed from the tent, angry she hadn’t been able to upset his uncle.

  “That girl is deranged. Mine is crazy, yours is evil.” Tzadok warned him once again. “You’re going to have to do something about her.”

  “I just did.” Kobb told him cryptically, placing his murdered plant back onto the shelf, and then continuing to tend his other flowers like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “We are on the brink of war.” Tzadok reminded him. “We’ve got a crazy green woman filling out graphs to measure how much I want to see her naked body…”

  “What amount did you tell her?” Kobb asked seriously. “On the graph I mean? Because my advice would be somewhere in the ‘Seven’ range. ‘Ten’ is too intimidating. It would make one fear for safety. ‘Nine’ is just as bad and is offensive because it’s obviously not ‘Ten.’ But ‘Seven’ communicates near total desire, but that it’s not the only reason for your attraction. That, yes, you desperately want to enjoy her body’s natural gifts, but that you can control yourself at this early point in your relationship and focus on the essentials of your pairing. It implies that the number will grow as your emotional bond does.” He nodded in certainty. “Can’t go wrong with ‘Seven,’ Nephew.”

  “I… I think I said ‘Three.’” He admitted.

  “Three!?!” Kobb let out a horrified gasp.

  “Maybe it was ‘Two,’ I don’t remember.”

  Kobb shook his head disappointedly. “That’s just an insult. Personally, I wouldn’t be talking to you after that, if I were her. That’s a relationship ender, right there, that’s what that is.” He made a face. “Two.” He snorted contemptuously under his breath. “What were you thinking, boy?”

  “Really?” Tzadok frowned at that news, but decided to ignore it. He gestured to where the dark-haired horsewoman had formally stood. “In any case, we’ve also got a homicidal teenage girl running about, annoying everyone…”

  “She’s not a teenager.” Kobb corrected calmly. “She’s older than she looks. She’s in her mid-to-late twenties, if not more.”

  Tzadok arched a dubious eyebrow.

  Kobb cleared his throat, accepting the silent retort. “Well, at least twenty, anyway.” He paused. “…probably.”

  Tzadok ignored that. “…not to mention that she just killed a plant I know you grew from a seed and tended to for at least eight years.” He shook his hands in irritation. “How can you be so calm about this!?! Why are you sitting there all content while our world falls down around us!?!”

  “Contentment is a decision a man makes.” Kobb set about cleaning up his gardening tools. “A beggar may be content, while a king weeps. It is not a question of external influences or how much you have, but an internal satisfaction which arises from being comfortable with yourself and accepting yourself as you are. Wanting nothing which would throw your life out of balance.”

  “Like green women.” Tzadok decided darkly.

  “You said that, I didn’t.” Kobb let out a breath and sank into a kneeling position to meditate and pray. “Desire is not wrong. Does a hungry man not require food to live? Does the falcon not desire to soar? No, so long as the desire arises from the spirit, it is right. If you want because you need, then you should have. That desire is the spirit’s way of bettering the mind and body, making all three stronger by adding something important which was previously missing. That is contentment. When you have all that you need to live and need all that you have in life. When you are complete and as Chox always intended you to be, only then can you achieve true enlightenment.” He readjusted his robe. “If you want because you simply want, however, then it does not involve the spirit or heart. It’s an exercise in meaningless pleasure, envy, or greed. Inconsequential. Empty. But it’s tempting sometimes. Oh, yes. Very tempting to give in to that kind of yearning, especially if it happens to have a pretty face. But it’s a complication which binds the spirit and prevents us from achieving true enlightenment. And Chox has placed many such complications into the path of His people. He tests us to see if we will make the right choices, according to His laws. Will we be strong? Or prove ourselves weak?”

  “So, now you’re telling me I need to graph out how much I want something? Is that it?” He pressed. “Should I go in there and continue filling in a journal of my feelings with her?”

  “Do you need to go in there and fill in a graph with her?” Kobb asked, his eyes closed serenely. “In the deepest core of your soul?”

  Tzadok had no answer to that.

  He…

  Yes.

  Yes, he did want to go back in there and talk to Tandrea. Needed to.

  Kobb didn’t bother waiting for Tzadok’s answer, probably because he already knew what it would be. “Your problem, Nephew, is that you look too often at the big picture, without understanding that it’s the beautiful details which make life possible. Consider The Wasteland.” He picked up one of his potted plants, still kneeling. “I can put this plant out in the salt and it would look very small. One tiny plant amid days and days of barren Nothing. My world would be empty, if I saw it like that. It’d be easy to overlook what I had. But, if I take that same plant and I look at it more closely,” he placed the pot next to his face, “it fills my entire view. My whole world is now one of color and beauty. Yes, I still only have one thing… but it’s beautiful. And I appreciate it more, because I now have the time to truly understand it and not be distracted by other things. The Wasteland will always be there, whether I worry about it or not. But the flower won’t. Not unless I tend to it.”

  “So I should allow myself to get distracted? I don’t understand.”

  Kobb let out a tired sigh and went back to meditating. “No, I know you don’t. Because you don’t pay attention.” He took on an utterly relaxed tone. “It means there are beautiful things in your world. You should take the time to enjoy them and not question why a lovely potted flower is sitting alone in the middle of the salt. Appreciate what you have, both green women and being Lord of Salt, not endlessly question how they came to be in your possession. Not… not feel unworthy of them.” He paused. “Because you’re worthy of whatever it is you want in this world, Tzadok. I know you feel like you aren’t… Always testing yourself… But trust me, you’ve earned what you have.”

  Tzadok considered that, while absently looking out at the village. “Your woman is attacking our people again.” He reported solemnly, wanting to change the subject. “She is a hellish plague on all that is good. I curse the day hell vomited her into existence.”

  “She’s not ‘my’ woman,” Kobb insisted calmly, “she is a woman. A mere child who belongs to no one but herself. She is not an object or something I control. She is a guest of our village and does not belong to me more than anyone else.”

  “Really? Because it seems to me like you’re the one responsible for her!” Tzadok pointed across the village as the woman was off to commit some new cruel ungodly mischief. “You’re the damn reason the rest of us can’t just kill her or dump her someplace to be rid of her! We’re stuck with that horrible girl because of you! You claimed her as Keeper of Your Heart! Which makes her your woman, ‘mere girl’ or not, and means I get to yell at you for b
ringing her into our lives!” He paused for a beat. “Why did you bring her into our lives!?!”

  “I assist all who need my help. That is the way of Chox.” He nodded in self-satisfaction over the idea. “But she will be gone soon. Trouble yourself no more about her.” Kobb assured him. “You’ll deal with the Coastal People and then she can return to her kin.”

  “They’re probably still celebrating her absence. She’s utterly uncivilized. Fucking Brightlighters are all like that.”

  “She’s very young.”

  Tzadok made a disbelieving sound and started from the tent, then stopped. “Uncle?”

  “What? What has she done now? Because I…”

  “No, not that.” Tzadok tried to think of a way to phrase it. “How… how do you know what you want is what you want?”

  “Are you questioning what you feel or questioning your ability to feel?”

  Tzadok shook his head. “I’m…”

  “Do you need her or not? Not just as a valuable prize, do you want her? Is she your Keeper of Heart? Or is she just some pretty woman you want to take?” Kobb asked suddenly. “The answer to that question is the answer to life.”

  The words hung in the air for a moment.

  Tzadok had never really considered that possibility before, because it was such a far-fetched idea.

  He’d done nothing to deserve a Keeper of Heart.

  As he thought the issue over though, it was very hard to envision ever finding a woman he wanted more than Tandrea. She made him feel something he couldn’t identify.

  Not that that automatically made her his Keeper of Heart, but it was certainly evidence that she was far more than a mere sexual conquest.

  “Yes.” Tzadok answered, no doubt in his mind. “She’s mine. Dangerous or not. She’s mine.”

  “Good.” Kobb nodded, apparently pleased with that answer for some reason. “I think she’s a fine woman. Chox was generous to set her aside for you like that.”

  “We had to steal her, actually.” He reminded the man. “From her own people and then from Hawser. Many men died in the process.”

  “Meh.” Kobb shrugged disinterestedly. “Close enough.”

  Tzadok felt oddly better about the matter now.

  Yes, Tandrea was crazy and did bizarre things.

  At this very moment there was probably some kind of supernatural death-dealer searching the world for her, ready to descend on her captors like a sandstorm of dark vengeance to get her back.

  And sure, she herself was undeniably plotting something nefarious against his village, using some unseen power or force of arms.

  Definitely more interested in her damn research than she was in him.

  Chox hadn’t given her to him, Tzadok had taken her. Just like he’d taken his position as Lord of Salt. Whatever destiny the gods had for the woman, they couldn’t possibly have cursed her with Tzadok and life in the barren nothing of The Wasteland. With a big, stupid, monster of a man. That wasn’t their plan. They had created her for pretty things and fancy men.

  His jaw firmed.

  But that didn’t make her any less his.

  He’d Claimed her. And she wasn’t going anywhere with anyone but him, no matter the danger she posed or the friction her presence caused with the other clans.

  This was his kingdom and Tandy was his prize, and Chox take pity any foolish man who stood against him. Because Tzadok sure as fuck wouldn’t. The corpses of those pathetic wretches would be gathered in towering heaps, after Tzadok’s hammer splattered this barren land in bottomless pools of their hot crimson anguish.

  The matter was settled.

  “Thank you, Uncle.”

  The man didn’t respond, already too deep in meditation. Generally speaking, Kobb really only spent a couple of hours a day in the world. If that. The rest of the time, he was off in his own little world: sleeping, praying, and meditating. Sadly, as each year went by, the man seemed to spend less and less time in reality. Someday soon, the man would stop all pretenses of even pretending to be alive and would instead simply find some quiet corner to sit forever, still and silent.

  It was one more entry on Tzadok’s internal: “Things Which Scare Me So Much That It Pisses Me Off” list. But he wasn’t sure what to do to help his uncle rediscover the world, so he tried to ignore it. Generally speaking, the Saltmen were not known for having “feelings.” The Saltmen didn’t have “feelings,” they had “passions.” They had fury and lust and appetites. The idea that Kobb could be having some sort of emotional crisis would just be seen as weakness or cowardice if Tzadok brought it to the clan’s attention or he even acknowledged it. Even if Tzadok understood what was happening and how to help, that is. Which he surely didn’t. Either way, if news of his uncle’s problem became common knowledge, it would get them both killed. It was all part of The Wasteland’s code of honor.

  Tzadok loved his people and his homeland, but sometimes it required walking a difficult line.

  And he had no idea what to do about that.

  Still, he did feel better about the Tandrea situation, and that newfound confidence improved his outlook on everything else.

  Tzadok stalked from the tent and out into the village, once more feeling like he had the power to accomplish whatever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted. Have whatever he wanted!

  Yes, it was good to be The Lord of Salt. There was nothing on this earth or in the world below which could trouble The Lord of Salt while his feet were firmly planted on The Great Nothing!

  He was…

  “Ah, there you are. Good.” Tandrea wandered over to him from somewhere. “I wasn’t entirely sure if I was supposed to follow you or not.” She said seriously. “There is a rule about staying within your sight at all times, but you were walking very quickly and by the time I remembered the rule, you were unreasonably far ahead. I tried to run to stay in your sight, but then I worried that you might take that as some sort of attack, so I was trying to stay juuuuust on the edge of your vision. But it’s kind of tiring chasing you around, especially since you keep looking in different directions and it’s hard to always be visible to you. You need to walk slower. Or backwards, maybe. That’d be better. I feel like walking in a forward motion is deliberately setting up the rule to be broken.”

  He blinked at her in amazement.

  Okay.

  Almost nothing could trouble The Lord of Salt.

  There was a very definite exception to that general tenet.

  One tiny green exception… who seemed to take the “stay in my sight” rule entirely too literally.

  He stared down at the woman, feeling more and more certain that she was his. Tzadok had never actually believed in the whole concept of Keeper of Heart. In the abstract, sure. But certainly nothing which he could ever find.

  Tzadok’s domain was death and battle. It was hard to imagine belonging to someone so… delicate.

  As he looked at her though, he was more and more certain that she was his Keeper of Heart. Despite the fact that she was a lunatic.

  “Tandrea,” he told her, “I want you to pay really close attention to what I’m about to say, okay?”

  She nodded smartly. “I am listening and prepared to take notes should your words aid me in my research of your language and/or endemic sexual hallucinations.” She paused for a moment. “I like hearing my actual name, by the way, thank you for remembering it. Speaking of which: do you mind if I record your data in Wastelandi in order to preserve the original context? Or would that be culturally insensitive?”

  He frowned, trying to follow that abrupt triple subject change. “You can record it in pornographic needlepoint for all I care,” he told her flatly, “I just want you to focus.”

  “I am utterly focused and prepared to do my job.” She promised, standing straighter in pride. She still seemed oddly terrified, but was apparently channeling that nervous energy into her work. The woman was an odd little thing. “I am listening. Tell me what to…”

  “Lord of Salt!” So
meone yelled from the other side of the street.

  Tzadok closed his eyes in irritation and something close to physical pain.

  This was not something he needed right now.

  Aix, leader of the Coastal People, was storming across the salt towards him, accompanied by a man wearing a black and crimson robe.

  Apparently Kobb’s little psycho girl had frightened away all of the camp’s sentries, because there was no warning or indication that Aix had caught up with Tzadok’s people.

  Shit.

  “Is this what I’m supposed to focus on?” His Prize asked seriously. “Because I am paying rapt attention, I assure you.”

  “No, this is something else.” He informed her distractedly.

  Tzadok didn’t like this. At all.

  If Aix was here, it meant that Hawser was still bitching about how mistreated he was, and had taken it to the leader of the Coastal People. On his own, Hawser would have been more easily handled. But now he’d apparently made it a clan matter, which was trouble. It was an expected turn of events, but not a welcomed one. And certainly not one that Tzadok anticipated happening this soon.

  Tzadok didn’t like Aix. The old man was always quick to assume everything was a slight against him and he made every little thing such a big damn deal.

  Granted, in this particular instance, Tzadok and his uncle were actually breaking the rules, but either way, Aix was still a useless and irksome dog-fuck.

  Plus, unlike most of the people in the clan, Aix didn’t speak the common Wasteland tongue, but rather a creepy Coastal dialect which sounded to Tzadok like a tremendous herd of animals all farting at once.

  Tzadok made a face of pure disgust. “Uncle!” He turned back to the tent. “Come talk to Aix for me!”

  Nothing.

  Kobb spoke the dialect just fine and was usually the one Tzadok relied upon in these kinds of situations. Plus, he was much better at dealing with Aix’s never-ending drama than Tzadok was.