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“DON’T WORRY, ASHA, we will find out who did this to Ramla—to Alyn’s sister Ramla. You see how small the world is? On the other side of the blue I meet the brother of Ramla—Ramla who I have known for years—who I had known for years. It still doesn’t feel as if she’s gone, Asha. How I’d like to scale the cliffs of Or to find her waiting in those caves, mysteriously already knowing that I’d come. She won’t be there next time, though, will she? I will never see her again. I don’t think you understand how dear she was to me. She was my friend longer than anyone else, even longer than you. I know you didn’t care for her, and I know your reasons for it, and I don’t blame you, but … I loved her.
Aye, I loved her, and she loved me.
“We were alike in ways, she and I. We lived in the world, but did not belong to it. We were different from the others and we knew it. We were trying to live in our places— the places we thought were our places. That’s why I never judged her. Every person needs a place. We thought we had ours. Neither of us would change. She wouldn’t stop her dark arts for I’m certain she felt it defined her. I wouldn’t stop my wandering—I was searching for a place.”
Zar carried on about Ramla for several days until he and Asha came to the town of Palta, which lay just inside Lolia’s border. It was a small town that was somewhat turned upside down when Zar arrived as a result of a recent murder for which all of the townspeople blamed a mysterious hooded bandit they called the Scarlet Quill—an archer that used arrows as red as a summer rose.
Zar wasted no time, jumping in to investigate.
“The man was in his own home when the bandit struck,” a townsman insisted. “Left him stuck to the wall of his own cottage, bright red arrows everywhere.”
“That’s how the bandit leaves his mark,” said another earnestly. “Leaves those red arrows everywhere for us to see so we’ll know he’s been around.”
“Always hooded,” said another, “cloaked in red— never lettin’ us see his face. He just comes from nowhere, shootin’ red, then goes back to nowhere.”
Zar spoke with as many people in Palta who had seen the bandit as he could. They all told him the same thing. The bandit wore a red cloak, its hood always up, and he was only seen in passing, riding by or riding away. He followed the sightings south, deeper into Lolia, until he had come to a small village that had a key thing in common with the town of Palta—someone had just been killed.
This Scarlet Quill was near. A crowd of villagers surrounded a cottage, their eyes pulled wide, and their mouths falling open. The murder had just happened and Zar made his way through the group to get a firsthand look.
A woman’s clothes were torn and she sobbed. Zar moved his eyes off her—for she was indecently exposed— and instead scanned the corner of the home where a body was laid out and filled with red arrow shafts.
“He tried to rape me!” the woman cried through sniffles and snorts.
“Was it a bandit cloaked in red?” Zar asked.
“Aye,” the woman called.
“I’ve come here in pursuit of him. He’s called the Scarlet Quill. Red hood, red arrows—he killed a man in Palta.”
“He saved me,” the woman cried. She looked at the corpse filled with red arrow shafts. “He tried to rape me, followed me home from the tavern and broke into my cottage—tried to force himself on me. Then—the bandit— Scarlet Quill saved me. I didn’t see him come, but he was here, killed the man, and was gone.”
Zar squinted in confusion. The Scarlet Quill had saved this woman from being raped, and would no doubt be regarded as a hero in this little village. In Palta he was regarded as a villain—he had killed a man, though Zar didn’t know the reason. No one in Palta knew much about the fellow who was killed, but nothing was stolen, so it wasn’t exactly accurate to call the Scarlet Quill a bandit. Here, the woman was known. Her husband was away on business in the capital and she was alone for a spell. Only a few of the villagers there had heard of the Scarlet Quill before, two of them stemming from rumors from the mainreach.
This Scarlet Quill was well traveled and well known. His activities—namely murder—seemed to span between the mainreach and Lolia. Zar listened to as many eyewitness accounts of the Scarlet Quill as he could find, then set out to the west, following a villager’s report of having seen a red- cloaked figure riding off in that direction.
“I know it’s the opposite way of the mainreach,” Zar told Asha, “but I must find this person. When this is done, we’ll seek out Tuskin. I swear it. After this is done.”
Asha lifted her head and stepped gingerly. She was familiar with the area, and as she brought Zar into the woods her steps quickened with confidence.
“Hey! Left,” said Zar, “I pulled to the left, Asha. Wait, I know where we are! Aye, we are in that area. I was so consumed with this Scarlet Quill I forgot where we were. Our cache is in these woods. I could use a proper bath—and we can store Ramla’s things. Fine, then, Asha, to the hot spring.” Asha marched through the wood with her head lowered purposefully. They were about a mile away from the cache when the camel stopped abruptly in her tracks, lifted her snout high in the air and started grunting.
“What is it? Is there someone there?”
Asha swayed her head from side to side as she inhaled the forest wind, still grunting and groaning.
Zar drew his sword. “We’ll turn back if there’s someone close by,” he whispered in Asha’s ear. “We don’t need them following us to the cache.”
Then, just as quickly as Asha had started her commotion she fell calm and quiet, put her head down and continued to march forward without a sound.
“What was that about?” Zar questioned. “Is it safe? If we’re not alone here I’d quite appreciate if you told me now. Well?”
Asha remained quiet, and Zar knew by her manner that they had nothing to fear.
They arrived at their hot spring treasure cache not long after. Zar looked down into the misty pool and beamed. The steam was already relaxing him as he worked himself out of his surcoat and mail. He pulled off his shirt and sat down by the bank in the steam as he worked off his boots. He was confused to see Asha walking away into the trees, but before he could call out to her—
“Zar?” a soft voice sounded.
A figure appeared from the place Asha walked toward. The woman’s mouth fell open and her eyes sparkled. She smiled radiantly.
Zar gaped, and, as the young woman ran towards him laughing the whole way, he finally found words. “Shahla! What are you doing here?” Zar attempted a few more questions, but his words were muffled as Shahla jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and squeezing tight. She rocked back and forth a few times before she let herself down and stood before him.
Shahla was in her undergarments. She was either preparing to take a dip in the spring or she had recently finished doing so. She had a scar on the left side of her cheek that wasn’t there before. Her hair was even longer.
“You’ve found my secret spot,” said Zar.
“Secret?” Shahla questioned, her face still lit with a smile, her shinning eyes seeming to smile the same. “Because of the hot spring?”
“Aye, because of the hot spring.” Zar grinned, looked both ways and leaned in closer. “And because of the fortune of treasure I have buried under our feet,” he whispered. Shahla smiled even wider, hopped a few times in place and burst into giggles all at once. In that moment she looked like the girl he had met ten years ago.
Shahla ran and jumped into the spring. “We have so much to talk about,” she almost yelled.
“Aye,” said Zar, chuckling.
“Where have you been?”
“The land across the sea.”
“Were you there the whole time? What was it like?
Did you see Leviathan up close?”
“Zar sat down by the bank and laughed. “Well, which question should I answer?”
“All of them,” Shahla called. “Come into
the water.”
Zar looked down into the pool, at Shahla wading around in it, the sprinkles of water that drizzled over her honeyed shoulders and the white cloth brassiere that she wore which was now saturated by the spring’s hot water and very transparent. He thought for a second, and then pulled off his pants.
Zar glanced at Asha as he stepped into the pool. He wished he could speak to her now. He had done nothing wrong. Not yet. After all, Shahla had left her undergarments on, as meager as they were—a thin cotton brassiere and loin cloth—which she surely would’ve taken off if she were alone. And he, of course, had left his loin cloth on as well. They had known each other for years. It was a harmless bath.
The woman stepped around in the pool, smiling at Zar as she rubbed her hands over her body, scrubbing herself with her palms.
“And what might you be doing in this area?” Zar asked.
“I’m hunting a bandit,” Shahla replied.
Zar’s thought’s danced to the possibility that they were hunting the same person, but Shahla spoke before he could ask her who it was.
“Wait,” she said, sending a splash of water in his direction. “You haven’t answered my questions. I do believe I asked first.”
Zar laughed. “Ah, the land across the sea, Serradiia; it’s like a fairy tale. I’m certain it’s because I had never seen it before—one of the few places I had never seen before— but it’s different. Almost magical, I daresay.”
“Magical?” Shahla giggled.
“The people, the buildings, the sights. I saw up close the Twisted Pillars of Yew. I touched them.”
“The Pillars of Yew? Then you were in Xuul? You saw the Lost City?”
“Saw it?” Zar replied. “I lived there. For over a year the Lost City was my home. I ate and drank with the king and queen. I hunted with the prince, went riding with the princesses.”
Shahla gasped and beamed, and the water rippled as she moved closer to the place where Zar rested his back against the bank. “How?”
“I found a treasure keep,” Zar continued. “Bruudor’s Keep—you’ve heard of it. When I saw the Kingdom of Xuul, the way the royals care for the common folk with giant granaries they build so they can keep the people fed, the goodness and fairness of the king and queen, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before in all my life. Xuul is a kingdom not built on cruelty or greed. They mean to exterminate poverty, unite the people by creating a general currency of gold coins stamped with the head of the king. The coins were to be distributed to families and circulated throughout the kingdom. The only problem was they lacked the gold. I was moved by this effort and granted them the treasure.”
Shahla stood quiet for several moments, staring into Zar’s eyes with wonder. “How can the land be so good?”
“Xuul is no paradise, but it is unified. One land under one ruler—one people. King Aron has thousands of men in his employ. Tens of thousands. With so many hands and a clear purpose, it’s simple to achieve a common goal.”
“I knew you would do great things,” she said solemnly.
“You think I’ve done great things? I have done some good things, and some bad things, like any man, I daresay.”
“No,” said Shahla, “not any man. You’re different, Zar.” The two fell silent for a moment.
“It’s good to be back,” said Zar.
“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” Shahla said at the exact same time.
Another moment of silence passed.
“So, you hunt bandits now?” Zar asked.
The water stirred as Shahla moved even closer to Zar.
“Aye.” She rested her back against the bank beside him. “It’s been a year since I started. After you saved me—at home— Father became so worrisome. He didn’t want me to go anywhere. He was afraid something would happen to me. So I stayed in the cottage—for months I stayed there—but I wasn’t happy. I felt dead. I felt scared. I was hiding from the world. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand thinking about when I was taken, how I wasn’t good enough to fight back. I could’ve put an arrow through that man’s eye if I wasn’t so scared.
“I became bitter. I didn’t talk much, I didn’t eat much.
I didn’t do much of anything. I was losing myself. One day I was thinking about when I was captured, thinking about how it had changed my life, changed the person I was into who I am now. I started crying. I cried and cried until I became angry. I wanted to be myself again, but I didn’t know how. So I just jumped on Dalya’s back and rode. I rode and rode for hours. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care. I rode nearly half a day until I came to a road where bandits were attacking a traveling party. I saw the riders trying to defend themselves, and I saw the bandits killing them—killing those innocent travelers so they could take their possessions. I was so angry.
“I had my bow and quiver with me, and I pulled an arrow from my quiver and shot it so fast you would have taken me for an assassin. I don’t know what came over me, but that arrow landed exactly where I aimed and I had never felt so good about anything in my life. That bandit fell. Then I shot them all down. That’s what started it. I love the feeling of helping good people—and killing the bad ones. Now, that’s all I do.”
“Well, be careful not to judge too quickly,” said Zar. “Why?”
The woman shifted until she stood directly in front of him. Before Zar could question her response, there she was, just a few inches away, so close he could feel her breath.
He looked into Shahla’s eyes, and she stared back daringly. He grabbed her around the small of her back and pulled her close. Shahla wrapped her arms around him, and her warm skin smothered his as she squeezed around his body excitedly. Zar ran his hands from her lower back down over her bottom and up again, until one of his hands, moving almost of its own accord and with purpose, slid around to her front and played there between her legs.
Zar looked at the woman’s face and noticed she had closed her eyes, and he pulled her body up as he worked himself inside her. Shahla seemed to hesitate at first, tightening up her body and wiggling away, but Zar pulled her in close again without even noticing. The woman gasped and whimpered a few broken words, causing Zar to hesitate. He looked over her face, her eyes still closed in passion, and remained still until Shahla opened her eyes and looked at his uncertain face. She kissed him long and deep. It was all the reassurance that he needed.
Her arms climbed around his neck as she squeezed herself just as close to him as she could, and a moan snuck from her mouth as Zar’s hands pulled her waist firmly against his, pushed her back away and pulled her in again. When they had splashed in the spring for some time, and Shahla had acclimated to the intensity of it all, she kissed him feverishly, all the while bouncing herself in his lap.
Feeling her skin, her breath, her hair fluttering over his neck, her warmth that had caused Zar to be lost in the moment, he could only think to himself that he never wanted to be finished, but after being wrapped too tightly in the pleasure of it all, he was, and he sat in the pool wondering if he should feel shame or regret over what he had just done, and realized that he didn’t feel either.
Neither did Shahla, apparently, for her voice soon sounded. “I feel as if that should’ve happened years ago.” She giggled as she snuggled against him.
Zar wondered if she would ever stop surprising him. “I’ve dreamed of what we just did—dreamed of it forever,” she whispered in his ear, her voice and breath telling Zar’s body it was ready for more.
When they left the pool, Shahla pulled a blanket from Dalya’s saddle and spread it over them. Their pores were still open from the water and a spring breeze chilled them as they huddled under the blanket and looked at one another.
“Clothes? Or fire?” said Zar with a grin. Shahla shivered and giggled. “Fire.”
The two waddled around together under the fur to gather branches from the woods and pieces of dry brush for kindling, and when a fire blazed not long after, the two let the blanket sl
ide off their shoulders. They stared into the flames for a time, but once their blood had warmed up their bodies began stirring and their limbs drifting, and it wasn’t long before they had wrestled themselves down to the ground, creating a different version of the dance they had started in the spring. It left them in the end quite drizzled with sweat from their movement and the heat of the fire, and when they were finished they laughed, joking that they would need to take another bath.
“I’m hungry.”
“As you should be after all that,” replied Shahla, giggling. “I’ll go for a hunt.”
She hopped up to fetch her clothes, and Zar turned his head to watch her as if he would never see her naked again. She picked up her bow and belted her quiver to her waist. Zar was stunned. The pleasure and fascination of discovering Shahla’s body, the disbelief that what had just happened had actually happened, the passion that they had just shared twice was instantly trumped and shattered. Reality had chased away the dream, and Zar’s face turned cold.
“Look,” said Shahla with a giggle, grabbing one of the arrows by the red fletching and pulling it out until the shaft showed the same color. “I use red arrows now.”
28
VENISON HAD NEVER TASTED SO BLAND. The woman he shared it with was Ramla’s killer, his newfound lover, and longtime friend. As startling and sobering as the realization had been, what made it harder was that he couldn’t speak to Asha about it, for Shahla was there at his side even now, the loveliest and most contemptible woman, rubbing his back and leaning in occasionally to kiss his face.
For a while he thought it could be a mistake. He hoped it was. Someone could’ve stolen her weapons and used them, or there might’ve been another adventurer that used red arrows as well. Zar clung to those possibilities, as improbable as they were. He clung to them—until she spoke.
“I’m an adventurer like you, Zar. I’m a bandit killer, a righter of wrongs. That’s what I do now. Have you heard of the Scarlet Quill?” Shahla looked up at him with a proud smile.
Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) Page 27