“I believe that is the definition, after all. But we, the more civilised folk, prefer not to use such vulgar language. And so, it is an acquired taste for an experienced palate.”
“Oh, how fancy!” Smiled Ravage. “Will you be serving vintage beetle juice with our meal of fried beetle in the shell?”
“The shell? Only a simpleton would serve beetles in the shell! How obscene! Why I never!”
Laughing, the pair felt the stress of the day ebb from their bodies. The conversation was light-hearted as they sat by the fire. Day turned to night. Patsy placed more wood on the fire and yawning, the women wrapped themselves in their cloaks and laid down. Huddled close to the fire, they fell asleep to the sound of the wind passing through the trees.
In the early hours, before the rising of the sun, Patsy awoke. The howling winds had settled and the jungle was serene. Embers glowed in the fire pit. There was plenty of wood remaining. Patsy lay, curled up under the warmth of her cloak as she contemplated whether or not she could be bothered getting up to stoke the fire. There seemed no point to it since the sun would soon be rising. Ravage’s breathing was soft. Patsy looked fondly at her friend then decided she would place the remaining wood in the fire, not for her own sake, but for the comfort of Ravage. The warmth would help her sleep better and heal faster, so Patsy hoped.
Weightless, ash arose and lingered in the air as Patsy stacked the wood into the smouldering embers. Flames began to grow. Patsy yawned and looking to Ravage, saw a naked man standing behind her.
The man’s pale, toned body was covered in tribal tattoos. The muscles in his thighs were tight. Calves well-formed, chiselled, strong. His face was hidden behind a fitted, sleek mask with no nose or mouth hole. A robust lion’s mane encircled the mask, golden fur flowing across his chest. The mask was crowned in deer antlers, sharp and menacing.
No words came to Patsy as she held his gaze. Shock claimed her. This man, appearing from nowhere, had thrown her off-guard.
Flames grew higher. Without speaking, the man backed away until his silhouette became indistinguishable amongst the shadows and darkness of the jungle.
A chill crept across Patsy’s skin. Where had he come from? Were there more of these men close by? Patsy felt foolish, to have slept on the fringe of the jungle with such a carefree attitude. Had she not awoken and stoked the fire… the thought made her shudder.
“What did I tell you about waking me up when shit like this happens?” Annoyed, Ravage couldn’t believe Patsy had left her asleep. She rubbed her brow and took a deep breath. The sun was up, fire all but burnt out. “Don’t you remember what happened in the mansion when you didn’t wake me up because you wanted to let me sleep?”
“This is completely different,” said Patsy. “And like I told you, he was alone and after he saw that I was awake, he wandered back into the jungle and that’s all there was to it. Then I sat here, by the fire, with my sword in my lap until the sun came up and then, I built up enough courage to go and pee in the bushes.”
“You should have woken me up anyway.”
“What? You don’t think I’m capable of pulling guard duty while you sleep? Because it’s basically all I’ve been doing the past week.”
“Alright, alright. Don’t get snippy with me,” Ravage sighed and waved her hand to play down the situation. “All I’m saying is, I don’t like the idea of being woken up by you in a panic if something had of happened and finding some naked guy’s cock in my face.”
“Are you sure about that?” smirked Patsy. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it? He was pretty decent on the eyes, for a savage.”
Shaking her head, Ravage steered the conversation in a different direction. “Do you think he might have been a scout from a nearby village?”
“It’s hard to say. He wasn’t carrying any weapons, so I don’t think he was a scout.” Patsy tried to remember the details of the encounter as best she could. Nothing significant came to mind. She shrugged. “I don’t know, Ravage. If he was a scout though, we should get out of this area pretty quickly. Primitive tribes aren’t exactly well-known for being hospitable to outsiders.”
The last thing Ravage wanted, was to be captured by savages. The thought brought more terror to her mind then facing a pack of rabid, half-starved wolves. Ravage stood, stretched her shoulders and glanced around. “Let’s get going then. We’ll have to be more vigilant from now on. Maybe at night we should take turns sleeping, like we used to in the old days.”
“We could always -” Patsy stopped as a man and a woman emerged from the undergrowth. “What the hell is this now?” She said, gesturing for Ravage to turn around and see.
The arriving pair wore patchwork armour of leather and fur. Both carried a quiver of arrows and a short bow. Steel weapons were sheathed to their belts. Their eyes were intelligent, alert. The woman smiled and gave Ravage and Patsy a friendly wave. “Hello!” She called, to which Patsy replied with an awkward wave, wondering who these people were and why they were so friendly. This was, after-all, the outskirts of the jungle. By rights, there should be no people around.
“Good morning, friends,” said the woman.
“Morning,” said Ravage stepping towards them.
As the woman approached, her pace slowed and her eyes became sceptical. She took note of Ravage’s torn clothing. The injury to her leg. Considering their location, the two women in front of her were ill-equipped for their journey. The pieces didn’t fit together. Brushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear, she stood motionless, her brow creased in thought.
“We smelled your campfire last night,” said the man. His stance was relaxed. “We weren’t really sure what to expect. As you know, not a lot of people come to this region of the jungle. It was a nice surprise to find a pair of Shimpu Monks, that’s for sure. Are you two heading towards the hills?”
‘Shimpu monks,’ wondered Ravage. ‘Of course! We’re wearing the Shimpu cloaks.’
“Hold up a second, Kohana.” Jubalee eyed the pair suspiciously. “They’re not Shimpu.” Her gaze was cold. “Are you?”
“No. We’re not.” Ravage shook her head. “Just a pair of lost adventurers. What about yourselves?”
Jubalee didn’t know if she could trust them, their southern accents however, showed there was some truth to the woman’s words. Lost adventurers, a long way from home. “We’re Arrakans, from Malminno village,” said Jubalee. “Tell me, how did you come to be in possession of those cloaks?”
“What’s an Arrakan?” asked Patsy.
“It’s what you southerners would call a Ranger,” said Kohana. “We patrol the lands surrounding our village to find out what’s happening, make sure everything’s safe and report back any shorku sightings.”
“But back to the question about those cloaks,” Jubalee, keen for the answer, pressed the subject once more.
“We haven’t killed any Shimpu, if that’s why you’re getting at.” Ravage understood her need to know. In these remote parts of the world, small villages and clans like the Shimpu depended on each other for survival. They would not take kindly to outsiders who killed their allies. “Unfortunately, we came across a group of dead monks whilst travelling north through the ravines. They were killed by a roaming group of behemoths we had seen the night before. I say unfortunately, but it was actually kind of lucky, on our part. We had no food, no weapons. Our clothes were battered and torn. If we hadn’t come across their gear, I doubt we could have made it this far. We found a jade, redox frog amongst their supplies, so I figured they must have been on their way to leave an offering for Arum’ol. To honour them, we completed that mission and now here we are.”
“You know of Arum’ol?” Jubalee was surprised. She had always thought of southerners as absent-minded sheep, herded into cities under the rule of kings, hiding behind stone walls for protection.
“Patsy and I know a great, many things,” smiled Ravage. “But admittedly, we don’t really know anything about the Trillian jungle. We’re kind of jus
t, going for broke up here.”
“If you don’t know anything about the jungle, then what brought you here?” Maybe southerners were as stupid as Jubilee thought, after all.
“We’re looking for flowers.”
“Is that a metaphor for treasure?” asked Kohana. Over the years, he had seen many treasure hunters and adventurers come seeking supposed riches which were rumoured to be hidden within ancient ruins scattered throughout the wilds. Instead of finding unimaginable wealth, the fool-hardy souls had their hopes dashed and lives ended by the viscous claws and merciless fangs of hideous beasts prowling the shadowy depths within the jungle. Treasure hunting, Kohana scoffed at the concept, believing it was nothing more than foolish ambition fuelled by greed. The real treasure, to Kohana, was the beauty of the jungle itself. The glory of nature, pristine waters, the crispness in the air, it was a beautiful place to live, why should a mortal desire more than the gods have already gifted them?
“No. Just flowers. Alstromne flowers to be precise,” said Ravage. “Have you seen any alstromne flowers around the jungle?”
“Alstromne flowers? Can’t say I’ve heard of them before,” Kohana shrugged and looked to Jubalee. Her expression was vacant and her reply, a shrug. “Why are you looking for them? Do they possess healing properties or something?”
“They don’t have any special properties. They’re the sigil of my people, the Larrosan. Recently, a friend of mine told me I could find them growing in the Trillian jungle.” It suddenly dawned on Ravage that even if either of the Arrakan had seen an alstromne flower, neither would realise, as the alstromne grew exclusively in the Valley of the Fallen.
“Larrosan? That name rings a bell,” mused Jubalee. It had been such a long time since she had heard the name, the memory of it was almost forgotten. “Kohana, the Larrosan, why does the name sound so familiar? I know it, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Kohana smiled. “You’re thinking of the old Larrosan ruins we used to play in when we were kids.”
“Larrosan ruins?” Ravage was astounded. ‘Could it be true?’
Noticing Ravage’s eyes light up, Kohana scratched his stubble then playfully pointed at her. “Ha! So, you are treasure hunters! Thought so. If you’ve come to search for priceless treasures within the ruins, you’re too late. The place was picked clean by tomb raiders centuries ago.”
Larrosan ruins in the jungle, what could it mean? Ravage wondered during which time period they were built and by whom. She doubted Jobee would have told her about the alstromne to instigate a treasure hunt. No, there had to be more to it. “I don’t care about treasure,” said Ravage. “If they truly are Larrosan ruins, then I want to explore them. There are no records of our ancestors living in the jungle. Our history is plagued with unanswered questions and mysteries. The ruins could contain secrets from our past!”
Jubalee, impressed by Ravage’s determination, nodded her approval. They seemed like a decent pair, these southerners. Ever yearning for escapades, Jubalee decided it was time for an adventure. “We can take you there, if you’d like?”
“Yes, Please!”
“Is that alright with you, Kohana?” Jubalee assumed he’d be fine with it, but thought it’d be best to ask, just to make sure.
“Yeah, we can do that. Though, I reckon we should head back to the village first. Stock up on supplies and whatnot.”
“Is there a trader in your village who we can get some new equipment from?” Patsy, excited that she might be able to get her hands on a new bow.
“We don’t really have traders, as such. Ours is a small village. We barter with other villages for things we need, so I’m guessing it’s going to be a little bit different from what you’re used to. We don’t use coins like you southerners do.” Jubalee could see the concern on Patsy’s face. She figured the pair probably didn’t have much to barter with. “Don’t worry about anything, ok? I’ll make sure you both get everything you need.”
“Thanks!” Patsy smiled. These jungle-folk were kinder than she had expected.
“Let’s get going then,” said Kohana. “It’s a two-day journey to Malminno.”
“Before we head off, what’s the deal with the savages?” asked Patsy. “Are they friendly or are they the cannibal type?”
“Savages? There aren’t any savages in the jungle. The shorku wiped them out long ago. We’re talking pre-Gorigarni.” Kohana thought that was an odd question. People in the south must make up some weird rumours about the jungle.
“I saw one this morning, just before dawn,” said Patsy. “He came right into our camp?”
“There’s no savages around that I know about. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
“Positive. He was naked, covered in tribal tattoos and had a weird mask on with deer antlers on it. He looked like a savage to me.”
Both Kohana’s and Jubalee’s faces became grave. They exchanged wary glances.
“What did his mask look like?” asked Jubalee.
“It had no nose or mouth. It was kind of creepy. It looked like it had a lion’s mane, too.”
Turning to Kohana, Jubalee said, “That’s Ashravel.”
“Dammit,” muttered Kohana, and began grinding his teeth nervously.
“Who’s Ashravel?” Patsy did not like the look of concern strewn upon their faces.
“I’ll explain him to you later.” Jubalee stepped into the fire pit, blackening her boots with ash. “I need both of you to get ash on your feet like this, ok? It will stop Ashravel from being able to follow our tracks.”
“Tell us now,” said Ravage. “This sounds serious.” If there was something they needed to know about this Ashravel, it would be better to have the information sooner rather than later.
“There’s no time!” Panic rung in Jubalee’s voice. Fear upon her. Fear of Ashravele. Jubalee oversaw Ravage and Patsy spreading ash on their feet and then with all haste, led them into the jungle.
Chapter 14
Colourful seaweed and vibrant, long-stemmed plants swayed gently with the ceaseless rhythm of the ocean current. A shoal of seahorses playfully dashed and fluttered amongst the submerged forest while passing fish paid them no heed, occupied with their own agendas.
Cupping her hands together, Jobee, Goddess of the Sea, encircled a seahorse as it glided through the water with elegant grace, coercing the creature closer to herself. The goddess’s love for their amazing shape ran deep, for they were the legless steeds of her kingdom. So beautiful, yet so fragile.
A menacing shadow passed across the sea bed. Frightened, the seahorses disappeared into the safety of the flora. Waves churned and broke as a wooden ship soared overhead, massive sails giving incredible speed to the hulking monstrosity. Curious, the goddess ascended. On the surface, it was not the ship which caught her attention, but rather the sight of a great winged cat, gliding above the crashing waves headed towards the shoreline. A woman rode upon the mysterious beast, her stunning golden hair trailing in the wind.
Standing beside the helmsman, Captain Denari scratched at his beard, his nostrils flaring to the familiar scent of rum and wild spice. He cleaned the smeared fingerprints from the telescope, raised it to his eye and with keen interest watched the flying cat soar above the waves.
Panting, the crewman paused for a moment to catch his breath after racing up the stairs, then saluted his Captain. “The nets have been loaded into the ballistas and are ready to fire at you command, Captain!”
Lowering his telescope, Denari gave the man a cold gaze. “What bloody good are the ballistas when we’re still out of range?” Turning, he screamed at the helmsman. “More speed, you worthless son of a whore!”
“This is all the speed the wind’o give us, Cap’n!”
“Drop oars! I want that beast brought down!”
“But Cap’n, we’re getting dangerously close to Seahorse Reef! We might break the oars and run aground on one o’ them coral crops!”
“I said drop oars!” Spittle sprayed from his
mouth as he shouted. “Less ye be wanting to enjoy the sea bed chained to the anchor!”
The helmsman gulped, knowing Denari wasn’t a man of idle threats. “Drop oars! All able men below deck!”
Despite the added speed, The Headhunter was falling behind the cudagelion. There came a loud crash as the hull impacted with a coral bed. The ship heaved. Sailors grabbed onto ropes and railings so as not to be cast overboard. With fear in his eyes, the helmsman looked to his Captain. Growling, Denari realised that interception was now impossible.
“Call it off.” Grinding his teeth, Denari’s face was downcast and he waved his arm violently in dismissal.
Oars were retrieved and the sails raised. Slowly, The Headhunter came to a halt, waves slapping against its barnacle-encrusted sides.
Scowling, Jobee’s eyes became dark as she stared at the vessel which rose and fell to the whim of the current. Humans, in Seahorse Reef - she would not allow it.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Strong winds ruffled the cudagelion’s mane as he stood on the cliff with the ocean to his back. Waves smashed upon the rocks below. Skye sniffed at the thick-bladed grass, the scents of Sapphiron were unfamiliar to him. “It will be a long and dangerous journey to take alone.”
“I know it will take a long time,” said Crystal. She planned to use the time alone to think. To ponder her future, a depressing future, alone, without Johnathon. Crystal hoped Sapphiron’s beautiful landscape will calm her mind, help her to focus. Her anger, she decided, to unleash upon those deserving of it until it is utterly spent, then, her soul will be at peace once more, for rage was currently a maelstrom within her.
Skye turned his gaze to the ship floating in the reef. “Persistent, weren’t they. I wonder why they were following us?”
“Nothing good, I suspect.”
“From what you’ve told me, the humans on this continent aren’t to be trusted. Beware their cunning.”
Misanthropy Page 14