by Joe Jackson
“Tell me there’s a way back to Anthraxis,” he said. The mention of the Overking’s city certainly got her attention, and she regarded him. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead, but instead touched a hand to his chest as he said, “Erik; I am Erik.”
She tilted her head to the side again, and despite the language barrier between them, Erik got the sense of a sharp intellect behind those golden eyes. “Nessandra,” she said, touching a hand to her own chest.
“Nessandra?” he repeated with a sharp intake of breath, but then he frowned. From what he’d been told, it was a fairly common name among the elestram. Still, the jolt of the memory of the woman who’d died trying to help him stung bitterly. Part of him feared this Nessandra might meet the same fate for trying to aid him, and he wasn’t sure that was something he wanted to live with. “I knew a Nessandra once… an elestram, like you. I guess it’s a common name for brave women among your people.”
The woman said nothing, merely studying his eyes as he spoke. She fed him as much as he was able to take. It was the first food Erik had since being captured, and while half-guardians could go extended periods without food, water, or sleep, he would need plenty of all three to recover from the abuse he’d suffered. She seemed to understand that perfectly, whether she was familiar with his kind or not. When Erik had his fill, she gave him a jug to drink from, and Erik was surprised to find it full of milk. He resolved not to worry about where beshathans got their milk from, and drank his fill of it.
A cup of water rounded out the refreshments, and then she gently eased him onto his back and threw a blanket over him. The floor of the cave wasn’t comfortable, but it beat being strapped to a crucifix, and the blanket would help him conserve heat and heal faster as well.
“Thank you,” Erik said, bowing his head as much as he could in that position.
The elestram woman said something in beshathan and patted his chest before she rose and walked to the entrance. Erik tried to stay awake, but only managed to watch her scan side to side for a couple of minutes before he lost the fight with his eyelids. He was barely coherent enough to recognize the sound of her getting undressed an indeterminate amount of time later, and then she slipped under the blanket and curled up beside him, adding her warmth to his.
He was too tired to open his eyes and say anything, or to care, for that matter.
*****
Erik had little idea how long he had slept when he woke, or whether it was even the next day. There was bright sunshine outside the cave, and silhouetted against it was the vigilant form of the elestram woman, Nessandra. She sat just inside the shadows of the cave, her ears and then head turning side to side from time to time. She looked over her shoulder eventually, as if she sensed he was watching her, and made her way over when she saw he was awake.
There was a pot of something boiling over the fire. The elestram woman used a rod to pull forth a cloth that was boiling in the water, and after letting it cool for a moment, she came to Erik’s side. She pulled back the blankets, which he found a bit discomfiting. If she felt any of the embarrassment he did, she didn’t let it show, and got to work washing his wounds again.
The heat of the cloth didn’t even register to his half-guardian flesh. When her washing reached his delicates, however, he still jumped reflexively. At least, he jumped as much as he was able to in his condition. She seemed shocked by his reaction, and after considering him for a moment, she reached up and touched the golden chain that was strung between her brows. Erik wasn’t sure what that meant; was she trying to tell him she was no stranger to men? Either way, it still made him uncomfortable; she was a stranger to him.
Nessandra started to clean him again, but Erik grabbed at her wrist and shook his head. “Don’t,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his tone. “Please.”
The elestram woman stared him in the eyes for well over a minute. The strength of her unblinking gaze made him even more uncomfortable, which he wouldn’t have thought possible. She blew a sigh through her nose and blinked slowly. “What is the issue?” she asked with that same slight accent he’d heard before, but otherwise in fluent Citarian. “Do you not wish your injuries cleaned and tended to?”
Erik balked. “Wait, you can speak my language? Why didn’t you before?”
“I wanted to see what you would say if you thought I could not understand you,” she answered. She touched the golden chain between her brows. “This was my wedding chain. There is no reason to be embarrassed or worry about impropriety; your wounds are extensive and very little of your body was spared Curlamanx’ wrath.”
Erik’s mouth tightened; she said it was her wedding chain. He nodded his consent. “All right, then, but I still don’t get why you wouldn’t just talk to me.”
“I have heard things about you, and wanted to see how much truth there was to those claims. You answered nearly all of my questions with only two sentences.”
“What questions?”
“Regarding who you are.”
She continued washing his wounds, though thankfully, Erik couldn’t feel any of the ones she had hinted at. She paused as she washed the outside of his left thigh, as though inspecting a possible infection, but ultimately, she continued her chore.
“My name is not Nessandra,” she said when she had completed her task and returned the cloth to the pot of boiling water. “Nessandra was my sister, and I called myself by her name to see your reaction. I am Kuritarra Kivekt.”
“Kuri… Tarra?” he echoed. “You’re Tarra?”
“I am.”
“Your sister… she wanted us to deliver a message…”
“And it was received,” Tarra said. She stood and went to look out of the cave mouth. “My sister was not one to take foolish chances, but the opportunity of the Crimson Huntress’ bounty was apparently enough to overrule that. After my husband’s death, I believe she thought she needed to take care of me.”
“Now I’ve left you all alone,” Erik whispered, recalling one of the last things Nessandra had said before she perished. He looked up at the silhouette of the jackal-woman again. “I’m sorry. We were overmatched by what we faced, and your sister paid the price for that.”
Tarra looked back at him over her shoulder. “You have no need to apologize to me. I was crushed to learn of my sister’s passing, but to hear of the efforts off-worlders put to honoring her… I was shocked. Most of our kind who go to your world are butchered and never return. Those who do speak of the hatred of our kind that is so prevalent there, that they are attacked or hunted on sight. That you and your companions welcomed my sister’s aid and treated her with dignity and respect as she lay dying… it was far more than I expected, to say the least.”
“You have my sister-in-law to thank for that,” Erik said, and Tarra came and sat down beside him again. “You may have heard of her: Karian Vanador. She’s been working to try to bridge some of the gaps between our people, to work together to bring down some of the kings.”
“Lady Vanador?” she asked, and Erik nodded. “She is the reason you lie here with me, and are not still strapped to a post in Curlamanx’ keep.”
“Do you work for King Morduri or King Emanitar?”
“No.”
“Are you an Ashen Fang like your sister, then?”
Tarra bowed her head. “I am. My marking is kept out of sight, however; if you wish proof, I will show you.”
Erik considered where she would hide it and decided against asking something he might regret. “I think Kari was working with the Ashen Fangs, is that what you mean? Is that why your people worked to free me?”
The elestram woman shook her head. “You have not been freed by the Ashen Fangs; you have been freed by me. Word of your capture and detainment reached me due to the efforts of the Ashen Fangs, but they did not free you.”
Erik could feel the blood drain from his face. “You did this alone? How are we going to get out of Si’Dorra without getting captured?”
“The king’s people a
re looking in the wrong place. Determining the direction to go was a simple matter of calculating odds and analyzing trends.” She shook her head and urged him to lie back down and relax. “We will have help, do not fret. Rest for now, and I will cook some more food to aid in your recovery. Now that you are awake and more prone to make an error, it will be riskier for me to leave you alone to go and gather supplies. Can I trust you to remain here, still and quiet and out of sight?”
“Yeah, sure,” Erik agreed, though he was still perturbed by the thought that she had seen to his rescue alone. Unlike Kari, Erik didn’t know who to trust and who he should be wary of. He couldn’t even speak the languages here. Tarra’s assurance that she had calculated the odds was of little comfort.
“I will return shortly. Have faith in my plan. I did not see to your rescue to end up caught and imprisoned beside you.”
“You want to go back to Citaria with me?” he asked, and she nodded. “All right, then. But we have to take this all one step at a time.”
“Indeed. And for this portion of the journey, the weight is upon me, so do not try to take it upon yourself.”
Erik agreed. She hesitated a moment, and he was surprised when she leaned down and kissed him on the end of his snout. He jerked away from her slightly and she looked away, embarrassed. Before he could say anything, Tarra rose to her feet and left the cave without breaking stride at all.
He swore in the back of his mind. It could’ve just been a way of thanking him for what they’d done for her sister. It could’ve been perfectly innocent among the elestram people. True, the timing of it seemed a bit odd, but Erik had reacted poorly and hurt her feelings. The more he sat and thought about it, he knew he owed her an apology. She had risked everything to free him from his torture, and a little kiss wasn’t much to ask in return. It was entirely possible this was as close as she’d been to someone since her husband’s passing, and taking care of Erik had simply awakened some spousal or maternal instincts.
Did she have children? Erik suspected not, based on Nessandra having said that she’d left Tarra all alone. Still, if she was an assassin and belonged to a guild, wasn’t that sort of like a family? That seemed to be the case with Eryn, though Erik treaded carefully around that subject on behalf of his brother these days. But if Tarra didn’t even consider her guild family, what hope did she have of getting Erik out of Si’Dorra alive?
There’s really nothing to do but trust her, he thought. He threw off the blanket he lay under and sat up with some effort. He inspected his wounds, and found that the woman hadn’t simply been washing him as an excuse to touch someone. His body was riddled with wounds. Thankfully, most of them were well on the mend, and he realized Tarra hadn’t been lying about the damage to his privates, either. Erik gritted his teeth; he hoped he’d get the opportunity to return the favor to Curlamanx at some point.
That thought brought with it the awareness that his friends and family might already be on their way to rescue him – and he wouldn’t be there to be found. They were, of course, highly capable, but he didn’t want to think about them risking their lives to rescue him. And that was to say nothing of the possibility that they were waylaid by that third Tilcimer when they passed through Anthraxis.
Erik blew out a calming sigh. Tarra had warned against him getting worked up and doing something foolish. He cast the blanket the rest of the way off of himself and tried to stand. It was no use; he was far too exhausted. His body was using every ounce of food and energy to try to heal itself, and he would be a fool to demand otherwise for no reason other than to pace. He turned to lean against the cave wall, and put the blanket over his lap after a moment.
Tarra returned after a while with another jug and a shoulder satchel of other supplies. She smiled when she saw him sitting up, and she made her way to the fire, replacing the pot with a pan to cook meat in, along with some vegetables. When she returned to his side, she handed him the jug and gestured for him to drink the entire thing.
Erik grabbed her wrist before she could move back to the fire. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I reacted like that to your kiss. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” she returned shyly. “I should not have assumed I could treat you with such familiarity.”
Erik nodded; perhaps it had just been a friendly thing. “I’d help you with the cooking, but I can’t really move… and I can’t cook, for that matter.”
Tarra barked a laugh. “I believe sense of humor returning is often a good sign when one is recovering from injury,” she said, and she returned to the fire to tend to the meat.
“What happened to your husband, if you don’t mind me asking?” Erik said, but then he immediately regretted it and cursed himself in the back of his mind.
“He was murdered,” came the answer. She didn’t sob, didn’t sigh; she didn’t even give Erik a dirty look over her shoulder.
“By who?”
Tarra still didn’t turn back to Erik. “The king, of course. He has destroyed my entire family in some fashion.” She sighed. “My husband was always outspoken with his criticism of the king. He complained about many things: Roadways, taxes, poaching, border skirmishes, and even the king’s obsession with your world. People agreed with him, but they stood by idly when my husband was dragged from our home and beaten to ruin. They dragged him off to Agivak, and that was the last I ever saw or heard of him. Not surprisingly, none of the issues my husband complained about have changed.”
“So… I was a pretty unique opportunity to you,” Erik reasoned.
She stayed quiet for a few minutes before she skewered the meat and brought one over to him. “Do not misunderstand: I rescued you as gratitude for your efforts on my sister’s behalf. That my actions vexed the king or cost him face pleases me, yes, but this was not my primary motivation. I will confess, however, that you also represent my only real possibility of escape from this realm.”
“Why not just move somewhere else?”
“That is illegal under the Overking’s law,” Tarra answered. “I have petitioned for the right to move, but His Majesty has denied my every request. I suspect he would be glad to see the last of my family wiped out, in light of my husband’s outspokenness.”
Erik took one of the skewers with a grateful bow of the head and began to eat. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said after finishing half of it. “But you said yourself that your kind aren’t exactly treated well on Citaria. Why come with me? And why not just go there yourself the same way your sister did?”
“You are… a hunter. It was my hope your people would grant me asylum, at least in the short term. As to why I do not simply go myself? My sister was pursuing a bounty for the Ashen Fangs; she had a legitimate reason to go. I am trying to escape, and that is a quick way to get oneself killed by the Overking or his agents, if not by King Arku and his. I am a fugitive just as you are, Erik. I need your help as much as you need mine.”
“All right, so let’s talk escape. Where are we going?” he asked before finishing the meat skewer. She handed him another, and he devoured that while he waited for an answer.
“We are already where we are going for the time being,” she said, sitting down fully. “I could not take you very far, but fortunately, it will be some time before even the most skilled trackers and hunters realize this. They must assume you were freed by a sizeable force, one that was capable of carrying you to safety in a short period of time. As such, the king will have every available person scouring the countryside for us. The reason they will not find us is because they are looking as far away from Dauchin-Rache as possible, in an ever-widening circle.”
“We’re still in Dauchin-Rache?” Erik blurted.
“No, but we are not far from it,” Tarra said with a placating gesture. “However, we are within the boundaries of a harmauth clan, and even the king will not disrupt the territory of a harmauth matriarch. Not without definitive proof that he has reason to.”
“They do; that is who I have been receiving our supplies from,” she answered, and Erik suddenly thought twice about the milk he’d been drinking. “They are content to allow us to stay within their territory until we are ready to move on.”
“So, you’ve been waiting until I can walk myself,” Erik reasoned with a nod. “Where are we headed once I can? And I don’t suppose the harmauths make clothes, do they?”
Tarra smiled, and Erik found it a comforting thing, considering she had just told him of her husband’s murder not long ago. The beshathan people had such muted emotions from what he had seen. Even when he wandered the streets of Anthraxis, waiting for some sign or word of Kari needing help, he couldn’t remember getting any hostile looks. Sometimes there was a hint of predator in their eyes, but they showed so little in the way of emotion, even hatred. Erik had to wonder how Tarra might fare playing poker against Aeligos.
“I can fashion you some garments for modesty’s sake, at least,” she offered. “Our best chance of escaping the realm lies to the east. There is a grand peak across the border, under which lies the citadel of King Lestanaek; it will guide us to the border of his realm. There is a great deal of ground to cross, and if we reach the border, we will be taken prisoner. However, we may be able to petition King Lestanaek to let us proceed to Anthraxis.”
“What are our other options?”
“Cross the border into Mas’tolinor, where we will likely be slain on sight. The Crimson Huntress does not abide border-crossers. The borders of the realms of Sorelizar, Tess’Vorg, and Pataria to the south are all being watched very closely with the events in Sorelizar, so we have virtually no chance of crossing any of those borders successfully.”