by Paul Yoder
“What could I learn from an old, blind man? I’ve survived alone from land to land with no help from the defunct. I’ve never lost a fight. All my enemies end up face down in the dirt,” Yozo snidely returned.
“You lost to me,” Matt said straightly, adding, “and it sounds like this Hiro fella isn’t ‘face down in the dirt’ yet either. And I’m guessing whoever gave you those lumps on your face may be still walking around while you waste away here in the wilds. I’m not about training no pompous brats who don’t know when their good n’ beat, so I won’t be pushing it on ya, but I know talent when I see it, and it might do you good to have some help in cleaning up your act for a change instead of lashing out at those who would be a helping hand.”
Fin finished undoing Yozo’s bonds just as Matt finished talking with the man, and Yozo, for the first time in days, let go of his scowl, reflecting upon Matt’s words deeply instead of jumping to a counterpoint as he often did.
“Here,” Fin said, gathering some water and victuals from his pack to give to Yozo. “Let’s start this out right this time.”
The sun lowered, and though Matt could see their situation was coming to a manageable tempo, he looked in the direction Malagar and Hamui had marched off in, hoping the same luck would be granted to his young pupils who were still quite green in the ways of the hunt.
He knew how quickly the hunters could become the hunted.
37
Division at the Gates
“Sultan Metus and company, I presume,” the gate warden questioned, stepping up to Metus and Bannon, the sandstorm making it difficult to hear him, even though he was practically shouting.
Metus looked back at his allies and troops. The sandstorm obscuring his ability to see past a rank or two, but he could see that all his closest allies were near to him still.
“Aye,” Metus replied, uneasy by the fact that even the gate guards knew or were expecting him.
“Your presence is requested to appear before the council to explain your militarized arrival. You may bring a small company with you to the meeting, but the bulk of your troops must remain outside the city walls.”
“I did not intend to bring my troop in with me to visit with the council, but surely you don’t expect me to leave them without the walls to camp in the wilderness? Is there not space in the barracks enough to house a hundred soldiers? I come here in peace, as I always do. Never before have my men been subjected to remain outside the walls.”
“I was given orders, Sultan. No doubt you’ve crossed many a caravan on the roads as you’ve gotten closer to Rochata-Ung. It is a busy time of the season. We have merchants coming from all over Tarigannie to trade in the monsoon harvest market and festival days, and we have little room to house an outsider’s troop at this time.
“Your men, save a few travel companions, are not allowed through these gates. Any act to force their entry will be seen as an act of war.”
Metus looked back at the Hyperium one more time, whispered something into Bannon’s ear, then nodded to the guard, agreeing, “So be it. I will bring only my personal guard and escorts with me in that case. Oh, and two travelers we picked up on the road here. We have no connections with them other than we offered them safety on the road.”
The warden looked out over Metus’ company once more and then replied with, “When you are ready, my lord, I will escort you to a residence in the royal district. The council will be ready to hear from you this evening after your brief rest.”
“Very well. Allow me to inform my troop of the proceedings,” Metus said crisply, returning with Bannon first to the head of the Hyperium.
Hathos stood at attention as the two top ranked men stepped up to him, shielding their faces from the blasting sands. His bronzed armor shone brightly, even though the sun was mostly blocked out by the wretched weather. His shorn head wore no helm, but a gold and black striped nemes which was furrowed to help block the harsh sands currently. His head tilted slightly down, but his eyes locked fixedly on Metus.
The three men huddled close in the blasting sands, Metus explaining, “I did not anticipate this, but the council wishes—demands—the Hyperium to remain outside of the city walls. I’m afraid you will need to set camp somewhere out here.”
“I would suggest along the foothills of Daloth’s Spire, my sultan,” Bannon cut in.
“Good. Yes, that should only be a mile northeast of the walls if I remember. I cannot see it through this storm, but once it has died down a bit, make your way there and hold up until further notice,” Metus finished, looking to Bannon to concur.
“Let Kissa and her two finest accompany me within the gates to keep a watch on you and Nomad’s attachment, which I’m assuming you’ll be taking in with you. If the Hyperium is needed, we can call for them as at that time.”
Metus contemplated for a moment, then replied, “No. Kissa and her two I trust to somehow make entry into the city and shadow us, but you are not trained as they are for that sort of thing. I need you for another purpose. Stay with the Hyperium, and take Nomad, Henarus and his priest and watch over them. Henarus should be able to help calm Nomad’s mind. He has become more agitated these days. The curse is strengthening, he needs looking after, and I cannot deal with cracks in his mental state when within Rochata-Ung.
“Once within the walls, I’ll instruct Cavok and Terra to go find Zaren and Jadu. That leaves me with Gale, Jasper, Reza, and Arie.
“Is all that understood? If there be any suggestions to the plan, speak them now.”
Bannon gave Metus a disconcerting look, his hesitancy to allow his sultan to wander without him in Rochata-Ung clear.
“Understood. The Hyperium will see to your commands,” Hathos said, saluting crisply to answer for his superior.
“Very well. Kissa will be watching from the shadows. Send word if needs be. A white cloth from a window for distress,” Bannon reluctantly agreed.
“Keep Nomad safe. I’ll finish our duties in Rochata as quickly as possible,” Metus said, Bannon and Hathos both bowing before heading back to the Hyperium.
Gathering Nomad’s company around, he briefly laid out their plan, everyone splitting up without much of a timely goodbye. Nomad, Henarus, and his priest headed out to tag along with Bannon and the rest of the Hyperium.
Everyone else hoisted their packs and looked to the city gates which stood well over twenty feet tall. Rochata-Ung was a sprawling city, and most of it was open to the public, a vast network of districts, markets, and slums stretching out into the canyonlands and dunes nearby, but the central city itself was guarded behind its long stretching wall. It was well guarded, and getting in without admittance was a feat for a real professional.
“Stay close,” Metus ordered all in his group, approaching once again the gate warden.
“We are ready,” Metus spoke over the howling sandstorm.
“Follow me, my lord,” the warden ordered, two other guards on duty following up behind them as they entered the gate into the expansive sprawl of buildings and bustling people.
The temporary resting quarters they were led to were more of a lounge than a private residence. Though there were partitions and beds comfortably placed throughout the large, extravagant room, it was very open, more than likely, purposefully so, so that the guards could keep an eye on them during their brief stay.
Cavok and Terra did not stay long though. After Terra freshened up, and Cavok took a quick sponge bath, they went to leave the lounge.
“Halt,” one of the two remaining guards ordered as they went to pass through the threshold.
Cavok obeyed, but slowly turned his silent, intimidating glare the guard’s way, causing the guard to stammer out, “Wha-what are you about? Your company is soon to be summoned by the council.”
Terra offered an answer, seeing as Cavok only pressed his glare more intensely.
“Our group is out of supplies from the long journey. While Sultan Metus is at court, Cavok and
I are tending to some shopping so that we may leave as soon as our lord is finished with his business.”
The guards looked to one another, considered the young girl’s answer, and hesitantly waved them through.
“Jhans will go with you. Our orders are to oversee your company.”
Cavok didn’t miss a step at the slight hang-up of having a chaperone. One guard would be simple enough to lose. If he wasn’t able to shake their follower, he knew he’d be able to make the guard disappear at the very least.
Jhans, the quiet guard with a mean frown, scar along his jaw and visor slightly hinged down to block out the sun and sand, quietly slipped in behind the two, following them out into the court and into the streets from there, Metus and the others watching surreptitiously as the two left to complete the task of contacting Zaren and Jadu.
“That’s one less Rochata guard rising in the morning, you know. Cavok is not delicate when it comes to reconnaissance,” Arie whispered into Metus’ ear, exasperation of the large man’s brute ways of solving things clear in her voice.
“He knows Zaren and Jadu best out of anyone here,” Metus sighed. “We need those two, Arie. Let’s hope he deals with the guard discreetly.”
Arie snickered darkly, murmuring, “Cavok, discreet?”
She grabbed a handful of fruits from the low-standing refreshments table. Metus joined her, pouring water from the pitcher into a clayware cup, sipping from it while lost in thought on Cavok and Terra’s departure.
It was a few hours later, after everyone had had sufficient time to eat, drink, rest, and clean themselves up, before the court master came with two more guards to lead them to the council’s court.
Metus kept his company close, no one speaking on the long walk there, all slowly developing an ill feeling about the procession; after all, Metus had just threatened one of the leading council members the prior evening.
His message of peace and warning began to seem like little protection now that he was deep in his neighbor’s capital.
Was he there to sound the alarm and save needless lives from an approaching foe, or was he walking into a fool’s grave?
38
Chains of the Past
“So Nomad was healed in Sheaf?” Fin asked, restating what Yozo had just glossed over.
“To a degree. Not fully, though. As I understood it, it only bought him a bit of time,” Yozo said, startling afterwards as he noticed Matt at his side for the third time in the last minute, even though Matt hadn’t moved.
Where were they headed from Sheaf?” Fin asked, snapping his fingers to bring Yozo’s attention back to him.
“I think they were headed out to recruit some friends in Rochata-Ung, then head south to confront the arisen invasion,” Yozo said, still side-eyeing Matt suspiciously.
“Friends in Rochata, eh? Could they be going for Jadu? Zaren was training him there last I heard,” Fin mumbled, more to himself than to the others.
“Yes! Those were the names spoken of in the council,” Yozo chipped in, adding, “They took a whole troop of soldiers with them as well. It’s a large company, not just a few.”
“How long ago was this, you say?” Fin asked, pleased with how willing Yozo had been in cooperating after they had calmed him down in his high daze, the alcohol seeming to smooth out his hard edges greatly.
“It’s been no more than two weeks, maybe even just one. I don’t remember. There was no reason for me to keep count of the days, so I didn’t.”
“They may already be in Rochata by now then,” Fin thought out loud, adding, “Thank you, Yozo, that’s all I needed to know. You had some questions for me, did you not? I’d like to assist you if I could, seeing how you’ve been so helpful to us.
“I admit, though most of my friends seem to know you or have had time with you, I still know very little about you. I only got to see you in the dryad woods, and that was only for a fleeting moment.”
Yozo took his time to process Fin’s loaded question. Though Fin seemed comfortable enough with sharing his company, the rest of his group actively thwarted his mission of justice. Indeed, his whole purpose even in being in this land was to kill Hiro, and so he admitted to himself, he did not know the implications of helping Fin as he had just done when Fin would likely take Hiro’s side if he knew the full story of the situation.
Yozo brought his hands up to his face, feeling the lumps and crooked nose that had not set right from Cavok’s beating. He had had migraines almost nightly since that night he had tried to kill Hiro and Cavok had caught him, and every night he was reminded of not only his hatred for Hiro, but equally now for Cavok. Though Fin seemed different than his other two comrades, he would still side with them, as the other, more level-headed ones surrounding Hiro had. When it came to it, he would defend Hiro, even if he were in the wrong.
His mood shifted, suddenly, slapping his deformed face hard as he bit out, “You lot portray that you’re keepers of peace and fairness, but you’re hypocrites! The only one you are true to is Hiro! All others be damned!”
Fin’s eyes widened, taken aback by Yozo’s outburst. Matt sat up, finally somewhat interested in the direction the conversation had headed.
“I’ve also heard much about this ‘Nomad,’ or ‘Hiro,’ or whatever the hell else you call him. Tell me more about him. It seems a great deal in both your lives centers around him,” Matt ordered from both of them.
Fin looked to Yozo, not sure if Matt wanted an answer from the foreigner first or himself. Yozo’s hesitation prompted Fin to speak first.
“I’ve known him for just a year now. He joined a reconnaissance mission I was a part of. We infiltrated Brigganden when it was controlled by the arisen army back then. We called him ‘Nomad’ because that’s what he was at the time, a passer-through, that was until he started to form close bonds with our scouting party. After our mission proved a success, he stuck around, but an injury he sustained during the mission began to corrupt him. Some sort of curse had been placed upon him from the warlock we faced, and he had to seek aid from the saren monastery up in Jeenyre. I only saw him briefly in the Jeenyre region when Cavok and I went to check up on him and Reza.”
“Cavok! He’s another one I can never forgive! I have him to thank for this!” Yozo hissed, indicating the lumps across his face.
“Cavok would not have touched you unless you brought on his wrath,” Fin said, discrediting Yozo outright.
“No,” Matt said, holding up a hand to Fin. “You know as well as I that Cavok has a temper. Usually, you were there to help him simmer it, but the seasons you were not around him, well, he does have a tendency to become feral. He’s been known to do some…regrettable things.”
Matt’s interjection caused Fin to consider his dear friend introspectively a moment, Matt pursuing more information on the point, asking Yozo, “May I feel, Yozo? I’m blind—can’t see what he did to your face.”
Yozo calmed a moment, fully expecting Fin’s answer, but thrown off by Matt’s willingness and interest in hearing both sides.
With Yozo’s permission, Matt brought his knobby hand to Yozo’s face. He felt delicate features in most places, and Matt was not accustomed to Yozo’s kind, finding his bone structure to be quite interesting, but he could feel the places where bones had been broken and had not healed properly. Hematomas had clotted and scar tissue had swelled, and his nose was crooked. He had received one hell of a beating, Matt could feel.
“Cavok…did this?” Matt whispered, barely audible, but the sincerity of his pity very clear.
“And he shall die for it,” Yozo huffed out, voice trembling with rage, on the edge of tears, emotions too strong for him to successfully fight off in his heavily compromised state.
“Oh gods, that boy. If you do end up killing him, can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. He’s got so much heart for those he cares for, but those he don’t, well, the man can be possessed by the berserker’s spirit. Those that cross him have been known to
end up face down in the gutter. It’s a rough world out there, can you blame him for it?
“What’d ya do to cross him, boy? You must have done something to set him off.”
Yozo attempted to compose himself, having the accusation abruptly turned back on him. His hesitation was not pressed as Matt and Fin waited in silence for an answer to the question.
“I…attempted to carry out justice on Hiro that night, and Cavok found me.”
“Carry out justice? You tried to kill Nomad?” Fin asked to clarify what had happened.
“After what he’s done, a quick execution would be considered a light sentence for his crimes.”
“What exactly did this Nomad do?” Matt asked, adding, “If he caused you to devote your life to following him across lands, chasing after him, well then, he must be some special sort of dirty bastard.”
“Honestly, I’ve come across worse, many times over in my travels. It’s not the severity of his crimes, it’s his refusal to take ownership of them that disturbs me so,” Yozo whispered, eyes closed, speaking as if but to himself.
Opening his eyes, finding Fin and Matt still present, his voice changed as he added, “It is a long story. I do not see how it concerns you two to know the details of our family feud. Suffice it to say, Hiro, the one you know as Nomad, betrayed and neglected his family. Many in his line died because of his lack of foresight, one of them being his sister—my wife. Instead of dealing with his failures, he ran from them, from us! I shall never forgive what he let happen to us, the ones he said he loved more than any.
“Mayhap someday I will convey the timeline of events to you, but today is not that day. I simply wish to force him to answer for his sins. To force him to consider what he did to us. He left our family line in shambles—a line that graciously adopted me in and gave me a heritage, only to have it be destroyed by his foolishness.”
“Hmm,” Matt rasped, sitting back comfortably, picking up Yozo’s discarded pipe, dusting it off as he continued. “Family strife. A powerful motivator for action. It has brought many kingdoms and would-be great tribes and organizations down into ruin.