Ax-Wed did not look forward to spending a night in some hovel leaning against the city walls with nothing to keep her company but sagas’ worth of bitter memories.
She was so entrapped by her broodings that she remained oblivious to the commotion ahead until she crested the hill and stood face to face with a charging aurochs.
With no time to even think of drawing the ax at her belt, she flung herself to one side and narrowly avoided the impaling tips of the beast’s horns. She landed heavily on her stomach—her bulging pack made her clumsier than usual—and as she rolled to her feet, she felt certain that the bovine would be upon her with its horns ready to spit and toss her with one shake of its great head.
When no gouging onslaught came, she looked around with a bemused grunt to see where the beast had gone.
Her head swiveled one way and then the other until she caught sight of the great bull at the base of the hill she’d crested before almost being gored and trampled. It snorted, stamped, and tossed its head in obvious irritation and made a wide circuit around the low patch of sandy earth between the hillocks. For a single tense second, she thought it would return for another charge, but the moment passed as it continued a circular course across the sand. It was only when she watched the creature wheel for another turn that she realized her ax was already in her hands.
After it had repeated this bizarre behavior a few times, the aurochs raised its head, drew in a great snoutful of air, and uttered an indignant bellow before it set off in an agitated trot.
“What in Atlkosh’s bones is wrong with it?”
The oath had no sooner escaped her lips than a loud, growling voice yelled, “Don’t hurt him!” before something barreled into her knees.
Ax-Wed tumbled halfway down the hill toward the pacing bull with something heavy and determined wrapped about her legs.
“Morah’s beak! Get off!” she roared and kicked out as she tried to halt her descent.
One leg pulled free of whatever had captured her limbs and she managed to halt her bruising roll down the hill.
“Leave him alone!” the creature clinging fiercely to her remaining leg commanded.
“I said get off!” With a snarl, she bent her free leg to drive a powerful kick into a wooly lump that looked suspiciously like the back of a skull.
She checked her blow barely in time when the lump moved and a pair of large emerald eyes set in freckled features emerged from under a mop of dark curls. The eyes widened at the sight of her armored boot raised for a kick and they disappeared when the shaggy head buried itself against her knee.
“Please!” the creature bawled and its gruff voice cracked with desperation. “Leave him alone.”
Ax-Wed’s heart still hammered in her chest as she leveraged the haft of the ax in her hand to scoot herself and her erstwhile passenger a little higher up the hill and tried to gather her thoughts.
“Hezkel two-backing.” She growled in exasperation and her gloves creaked slightly as her hold tightened on the ax. It was bad enough that she didn’t have a clue what was going on, but being flat on her rump with a creature clinging to her leg and an irate bull a stone’s throw away left her feeling more than a little vulnerable, to say the least.
And in her experience, the best answer to vulnerability was violence—and as much of it as possible.
Whether it was from one of her recent encounters, the weariness of her trek across the desert, or forestalled wisdom finally catching up, she managed to fight off the instincts that told her to lash out until things stopped moving.
Ax-Wed took a steadying breath and looked at the lumpy figure still clinging to her legs. Now, she realized, it was shaking uncontrollably.
“Let go of me and we can talk,” she managed to say through gritted teeth as she lowered her boot slowly to the hillside.
The brilliant green eyes emerged again and this time, she noticed a large, freckle-dappled nose beneath them pressed against her knee.
“Promise you won’t hurt him?” the frightened creature asked with more than a trace of hopefulness in its rough timbre.
She looked down the hill to where the aurochs had stopped to sniff again. Exactly as before, it uttered a frustrated bellow and returned to pacing in angry circles.
“As long as he keeps those horns to himself,” she said with a nod of her head to the wide-swept sickles in question. “Then I don’t suppose I have any quarrel with him.”
The emerald eyes studied her for a second before her leg was released and their owner scuttled away from her to provide her first good look at her would-be attacker.
He—the general proportions and wiry dusting about the face suggested male—was short and stocky and stood no taller than a lad of ten or eleven, although he weighed as much and gripped like a full-grown man. The proportions, along with the bright eyes and facial hair, suggested some breed of dwarf but a young one, probably in that lurching awkward time between childhood and maturity.
“I’m sorry about all that.” He grunted as he rose and began to brush the sand from his clothes. “He’s scared, is all.”
Ax-Wed wasn’t certain why the stout fellow made such a fuss about his clothes as they practically blended into the desert. He was clothed in plain but well-made homespun all dyed a dusty beige, with the only ornamentation being crimson stitching worked in a simple herringbone pattern down his right sleeve.
Feeling her gaze upon him, the lad looked up and after a moment of staring at her, his eyes widened and he thrust a hand out.
“Please let me help you,” he almost squeaked in his gravelly voice. “To jump on a stranger is one thing but a…uh, that is to say, you are a…”
She looked above the hand to the benighted young dwarf’s eyes. His gaze roved over her body with increasing perplexity.
“A woman?” she asked and raised an eyebrow she knew he couldn’t see inside her helm.
The bright green eyes bulged to the point where there seemed to be a chance they might pop out and in the next moment, he stared at the sand, his hand still outstretched. Beneath his freckles, his cheeks bloomed crimson.
“I’m so sorry, of course,” he muttered to the sand, his voice edged with embarrassment. “A woman, obviously. I don’t mean obviously in that your feminine parts are obvious…not that your parts look like male parts—why do I keep saying parts? Oh, Watchful Mount, save me!”
Ax-Wed coughed to quell a snort of laughter and decided she’d better take the lad’s hand before he yammered himself breathless. She still had to find out about this business with the aurochs, after all.
“Don’t worry about it,” she told him briskly and hauled herself upright with the extended hand. To her pleasant surprise, the dwarf kept his footing, a not inconsiderable feat especially given her size, equipment, and the heavy pack she bore.
“Thanks.” She nodded at him as she settled the harness of her armor into place and shrugged her pack into a more comfortable position.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly and dared to look ruefully at her before his gaze fled to considering the hillside and the beast trotting below them. At the sight of the bull, he rubbed and tugged on his large nose in irritated contemplation.
“Were you heading into the city or out of it?” Ax-Wed asked as she turned to look at the sinking sun.
“Huh—what?” the dwarf stammered, shaken from his frustrated musing. “Oh. In—into the city. My Mehk is supposed to meet with Vahrem’s caravan so we can enter the Azure Gate together.”
The lad suddenly turned toward her with beseeching eyes and yanked his nose so hard one might have thought he wanted a trunk.
“She’ll be so mad if I make her late.” He groaned and glared at his clothes. “Why was I so stupid?”
“Durra!” a shrill voice howled behind them, and both woman and dwarf jumped at the sound. Even the aurochs below paused its strange behavior and flattened its ears at the grating sound.
“Durra!”
“Mount preserve me!” the young dwa
rf panted as he began to scamper up the hill, then stopped to stare at the bull. “Oh, Stones Below!”
“Durra!”
Ax-Wed was about to ask him what was happening when the drumming thunder of hooves paired with a rattling ruckus distracted her. She looked up the hill at a plume of dust that rose toward the sun and an instant later, the heads of three immense black rams crested the hill. Huge and sleek-coated with great spiraling horns, the beasts might have been something fit for a fable or prophetic myth but as sure as the sand, they trotted forward with their heads high like crowned kings. They moved side by side with precision and unity that parade-ground soldiers might have envied.
“Stones and Spikes.” The young dwarf moaned as he stopped and waited for the approaching procession like a man awaiting the gallows.
As they approached, she realized they were all harnessed together to draw a wicker-framed chariot, wherein sat a dwarfess of considerable age. A thick mane of curly hair descended around her broad, bent shoulders, most of it gray going to white except for a few locks as black as coal.
This expanse of hair fell about a face that was tanned with the sun and spotted with age, but her eyes were as bright and green as the young dwarf’s and the scowl on her face spoke of a vigorous temper. Her clothes were of much the same make as his except she had the herringbone pattern down both sleeves of her blouse and several bands running down the length of her skirts. In one hand, she held the reins of the chariot lightly and with the other, she gripped a twisted length of bleached wood from which hung several bells of various sizes and materials.
With a sharp tap, she jangled some of the bells and the rams came to a quick but not ungainly stop.
“Durra!” the dwarfess yelled as she leaned against the straining wicker frame. Her ponderous breasts and part of her heavy belly protruded precariously. “You stupid bareface! What is going on?”
The young dwarf hung his head and tucked his hands behind his back as he struggled to form a reply. From where she stood behind him, Ax-Wed noticed his stubby fingers wringing his hands mercilessly.
“The aurochs broke free, Mehk Numi,” he said and nodded furiously toward the beast at the bottom of the hill. “I think it’s because I still had some ash asp blood on my clothes. He scented it and panicked.”
The elder dwarf swung her gaze to the rams, who returned her gaze with strange, golden eyes. An understanding seemed to pass between them which seemed vaguely disappointed before she turned her scowl on the waiting youngster.
“I know what happened,” she snapped and grasped the protesting wicker supporting her. “What I asked is what you are doing?”
Durra wilted under his elder’s glare but managed to sweep a gesture toward Ax-Wed.
“I was chasing the aurochs, trying to catch it, when I ran into this woman,” he explained and kept his head low and his voice pitifully hoarse. “At first, I thought she’d been hurt, then that she might hurt him, and then—”
“Then I realized I could help your good nephew,” Ax-Wed interjected and took a step forward so she stood beside him. “We were trying to think of a way to get the beast under control when you arrived, wise mother.”
To accompany the traditional eastern honorific for noble matrons, she bowed and didn’t rise until Mehk Numi gave the customary nod.
“I certainly appreciate you trying to help my fool of a nephew,” Numi said as she cast an assessing eye over her. “But the silly bareface should have known better than to simply run off like some randy billy chasing a spry nanny.”
“I didn’t want to lose track of it,” he protested and cringed when his aunt turned another immolating glare upon him.
“And I don’t want to lose track of my nephew,” she retorted and shoved herself away from the side of the chariot with a grunt. “When you have a spooked aurochs, you won’t bring it back with nothing but your two hands.”
Muttering and grunting, the elder dwarf dismounted and landed heavily but solidly upon her sandaled feet.
“Now, if you and this woman intend to help me straighten this business out by sunset, fetch the halter and rope out of the back of this ol’ rumbler,” she instructed and began to waddle down the hill. She used the piece of gnarled wood with bells as a walking stick although it seemed far too thin and frail for such a purpose.
“Come on.” Durra sighed dejectedly and began to shuffle towards the chariot.
Ax-Wed stood for a moment, utterly perplexed as the old dwarfess continued to amble toward the snorting aurochs. The bells on the staff created a kind of rhythmic chime with each step, and she had a disturbing thought that it almost sounded funereal in tone.
She shook her head, certain that something was missing, and tucked her weapon into the loop on her belt before she followed the younger dwarf.
Her long legs ate up the distance between her and Durra and she joined him at the back of the chariot. He drew out a halter and rope that lay coiled on the floorboards.
“What will she do?” she asked with a nod toward the dwarfess as she took the rope from his hand.
“Settle him,” he grunted as he scooped the halter up.
“Should we be down there to help her?” she pressed and felt mounting urgency as each shuffling step brought the beast and elderly dwarf closer together. “I mean, is it safe?”
Durra had turned to descend the hill but stopped and looked at her, his brows knitted together in confusion.
“Have you ever been around Wain Dwarves before?” he asked. Confusion gave way to a knowing look when she shook her head.
“I know there are tribes or clans,” she shrugged. “So that’s your tribe?”
His brow furrowed even more and he opened his mouth to explain but the chiming steps of the elder became a discordant jangle. Both turned as the dwarfess held her staff over her head and shook it vigorously. The aurochs stood less than half a dozen paces from her with its head raised to study her warily.
“If you’ve never been around Wain Dwarves, you won’t want to miss this,” he said softly, his voice almost reverent, and led the way. Shuffling the stout rope in her hands, she followed him down the slope and prayed silently that she wasn’t about to see the cantankerous old aunt be gored to death.
They had reached the level ground when the elder stopped shaking the bell-strung staff, threw her head back, and uttered a raw-throated cry almost like a low. As though stung on the haunches, the aurochs reared with a baying bellow and surged forward.
Ax-Wed grasped her weapon reflexively but a hand was there to stay her.
“Wait, please,” Durra whispered and quickly withdrew his hand when a dangerous light flashed in her eyes.
Instinct and no small amount of irritation at being grabbed again flashed through her but she mastered it and forced herself to watch events unfold. Once the beast was done with the elder, she knew exactly who she would shove in front of the charging aurochs.
The beast seemed dead set on running the old dwarf down and its massive muscles bunched and flexed as it rushed forward with its huge, horned head lowered. The tips of those horns glinted red in the dying sun as though eager for a more substantial coating of crimson. The last few yards between elder and beast disappeared in the blink of an eye.
In a spray of sand and dust, the aurochs turned the charge into a prance and cavorted almost daintily around Mehk Numi.
Ax-Wed couldn’t stop a low mutter of amazement from slipping through her lips.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Durra nodded with pride. “And one day, I’ll learn the charms too.”
“That could come in handy,” she responded and looked at the rope. “Do we even need this?”
“Do you two think it will be easier to get a lead on this brute before or after sunset?” Mehk Numi called over her shoulder as she raised a hand to stroke the auroch’s glossy hide.
“The charms don’t last forever,” her companion explained and raised his voice as he moved toward the now placid bovine. “Coming, Mehk.”
“Quickly now,” the dwarfess ordered as she continued to stroke the shivering colossus. “We’ve been delayed enough as it is.”
Durra approached without the slightest hesitation with the halter in his hands. He made two soft clucking sounds in the back of his throat and the great bull lowered its head enough to allow him to secure the harness. With a wave of his hand, he beckoned Ax-Wed closer and when she reached him after a somewhat halting approach, he took the rope and secured a lead to the halter.
“Tie him to my rumbler,” the elder dwarf instructed and pointed up the hill with her peculiar walking stick. “I’d like a word with our new friend.”
The young dwarf looked as downcast at being shooed away as the aurochs did at leaving the dwarfess, but both went slowly up the hill to the chariot without complaint.
“Are you headed into Jehadim, then?” Numi asked as she watched her nephew’s progress.
“Yes, wise mother,” she replied and straightened a little as she fought to shake off the wonder that permeated her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen magic but it was the first time she’d seen it so…pure.
“Do you see a crown on this ol’ lump or a jeweled choker around this waddle?” she asked quickly, tapped her skull, and stroked the folds of her neck with knobby fingers. “You can stop with that wise mother business. Call me Numi or Mehk Numi if you insist on being annoyingly formal.”
“As you wish, Mehk Numi,” she replied with a little bow.
The elder dwarf squinted at her and her eyes pinched to slits between the wrinkles. She seemed to be suspicious but on seeing the smile in the coppery eyes within the helm, the dwarfess broke into a gap-toothed smile.
“I think I might get to like you, gell.” She chuckled and held her hand out. “Have you got a name worth knowing?”
“Ax-Wed,” the warrior answered as she took the outstretched hand.
Circle In The Deep (The Outcast Royal Book 1) Page 3