Bishta the Black

by Jada Fisher

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve been in a few scrapes here and there.”

  He let out a breath and looked at Tuni. “Do you think she…” He couldn’t find the words because they hurt too much, so he gestured to his own throat. Tuni appeared to understand.

  “We won’t know until she wakes up. On the surface, her throat doesn’t look any worse than yours, but every body is different, and we can’t look inside of her. Hopefully, she can still speak.”

  “If she can’t… I don’t…”

  “Hey,” Tuni said, maneuvering herself in front of him so that he could no longer see Shandi. “She’s a tough woman. You should know that even better than me. She’ll pull through and be good as new.”

  Dorrick wanted to believe her, but Tuni hadn’t been there when they’d beaten her, hadn’t seen her tears and her defeated expressions, even if they were brief. And being hanged and nearly dying could change a person. He had faith, he knew Shandi was the strongest person he knew, but there was always that possibility that she wouldn’t be the woman they knew and loved after this. They’d have to wait and see.

  “It isn’t your fault, either,” Tuni said, putting a hand against his face. She rubbed her thumb in a soothing motion against his skin. “None of this is on you, so don’t you dare blame yourself.”

  His cheeks heated. “I wasn’t—”

  “Don’t lie to me, mister knight, I can see it in your eyes.”

  Dorrick wanted to offer a cutting rebuttal, but he closed his mouth mid-start when he looked at her fierce teal eyes burrowing into him. He let his gaze drop to Shandi and clenched his fists.

  “I need her to be okay.”

  “She will be. Just be patient.”

  He swiped at the lone tear perched on the precipice of falling down his cheek. He sniffled, then looked at Tuni with a raised eyebrow. “Who’s Asoka?”

  That caught the wildling off guard. “Come again?”

  “You said, ‘Asoka brought her back.’ So, who is Asoka?”

  Tuni blinked, then shook her head with a smile. “Sorry, I’m so lost in my head right now.” She stood, dusted off her legs and stomach, and helped Dorrick to his feet as well. He had to grit his teeth. His stomach pangs were back, and they hurt like hell, but he doubted he’d get food any time soon.

  Ash’yali moved aside as Tuni gestured past her. Behind them was a girl about the same age as Tuni and Ash, so roughly a year or so his junior.

  “Dorrick,” Tuni began, her eyes flitting between him and the girl. “This is Asoka, the new Sage of the Seas.”

  She was stunning. And she was basically naked. That was all his mind could comprehend.

  Her skin was golden, and the area around her chest, stomach and forearms were covered in shimmering iridescent gold scales that glittered in the morning sun. It took him a moment to realize that she was in fact not naked. No, she was a lot like Ash, being that she had a natural covering to her body. She was covered in scales. The only clothing she had was a short fishnet-like skirt, but even beneath that he could see the shimmer of scales along her thighs.

  So, a mermaid then? He had heard stories of the mer that could walk on land like humans, but he’d never known if they were true. It seemed they were.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him, and her voice was lovely, like a song.

  “I… I…”

  Tuni grinned mischievously. “I told you he’d be too stumped to speak when he met you.”

  The girls shared a conspiratorial giggle, which made his cheeks grow even hotter. He shook his head and tried to get his composure back. Clearing his throat, he offered her his hand.

  “Sorry about that, you, uh, caught me off guard is all. I am Dorrick.”

  The mer smiled brightly—again, stunning—and shook his hand. “Charmed. I am Asoka. I’m Sage of the Seas now, as she said.”

  “Glad to make your acquaintance. You really saved me there.”

  Asoka cocked her head and smiled in a way that made her eyes narrow to slits. “Well, I certainly couldn’t let Tuni’s precious friends be executed by a bunch of greedy city folk. So, don’t mention it.”

  Dorrick nodded, his grin staying steady. His eyes trailed to her other hand, which she had covered in bandages and tucked against her side, and he frowned.

  “Did something happen?” he asked. And then he was struck by the fact that Gayla wasn’t there with them, and they both looked a bit tired and worn down and that couldn’t have been from this fight for it had been a rout. His eyes flitted to Tuni. “Tuni, where is Gayla? Why isn’t she with you, and why are you hurt?”

  Tuni and Asoka shared a long look that seemed to have so much meaning behind it. “A lot has happened,” the wildling finally said. “You best sit down because it’ll take a minute.”

  And it was indeed a lot. She explained the long, fruitless search through the isles, meeting the dragon Amoloth, then eventually finding Asoka at a mer village, along with some human warriors—Baerdon and Ivara—who’d traveled all the way from the Human Plains to find her as well to give her the Sage of the Seas’ staff. They were attacked by feral mer, and then after a celebration, Gayla took the warriors back to their home, but she never came back, so Tuni and Asoka journeyed home with Amoloth. Upon arrival, they were attacked by Bishta herself, whom they were able to successfully drive off, but not without grave injury.

  At the end, Asoka unwound her hand. Dorrick gasped. The hand seemed shrunken, the skin shriveled and gray.

  “It was the only way to save Tuni’s life,” she said. The two shared another look that had so many words unsaid. No doubt they shared a bond that was strong despite the newness of it.

  Ash put a hand on Asoka’s shoulder. “Maybe there’s some herbal way to heal your hand?”

  The mer shook her head. “I don’t think so. But it’s okay. I knew the risks when I used that spell. Healing magic often takes away from the user to give to the patient. I would do it again and more to save the life of my friends.” She smiled, a soft curl of her lips, and he knew that she would absolutely give her life for those she cared about. It seemed they’d found a very good person to be the next Sage of the Seas.

  Tuni’s eyes were at her knees as she sat back on her heels, hands crossed over her thighs. All around them, the tree folk chatted and smiled, seemingly oblivious to the weight of this conversation. Of course, they’d all dealt with this much and more when their village was attacked. They’d lost homes and loved ones. Everyone present had something to grieve. So Dorrick wasn’t going to begrudge them feeling happy with their victory.

  No doubt his father—who had not been counted among the bodies—would come back with an army. This was only the beginning.

  “So that’s what happened,” Tuni whispered, drawing him back. Her eyes came up to his and she smiled, though there was a sadness behind that gaze. “It’s a lot, I know, and it feels like a lifetime has gone by since I last saw you.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  Dorrick leaned back on his palms and looked at the sky. He wanted to enjoy this moment of peace, despite his own pain and injuries, despite the fact that Shandi was in bad shape and maybe wouldn’t be the same. He wasn’t sure he’d be the same either. He wanted to be happy. Tuni was back, battered but safe, and she brought with her a new ally, a powerful one.

  But Gayla was gone, and they had no idea what was going on. Bishta, who apparently could find them easily, could appear at any moment. The world was still unraveling, and Al-Sevara was about to go to war with the wilds, and his father would lead the charge, hell bent on burning them all to ash.

  But he wanted to enjoy this moment.

  He couldn’t.

  Dorrick struggled to his feet and looked at all the knights’ bodies. “We have to burn the bodies,” he said. That elicited quite a few stares. He met his friends’ eyes. “We can’t have them return as undead, remember?”

  Tuni nodded. “Right.”

  Ash frowned. “My people decompose and return to the wi
lds too quick for that to happen to us, but I have seen some human undead in recent weeks. It is…terrifying.”

  Memories of Tuni’s village came to his mind, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Yeah, they aren’t pleasant.” Tuni’s eyes were distant, no doubt recalling her own experience. It must have been so much worse for her.

  They got to work on their somber task. It was hard, stripping the armor off a corpse, trying to find any of the useful potions and alchemical bits that all knights carried with them. It felt a bit disrespectful, like they were looting the dead, but Dorrick knew that a lot of the substances were highly combustible, so they didn’t need them exploding when they cremated the fallen. That kept him from feeling totally sick with himself.

  There were about a couple dozen fallen knights. To his great relief, neither Ollo nor Evan were among the dead. But that didn’t mean that these were all anonymous strangers. No, he recognized every one of them. He wasn’t particularly close to any of them, but he knew all their faces, and most of their names. They weren’t bad people. Sure, they wanted to hang him and Shandi, but that was out of grief and anger for their slain comrades. Dorrick couldn’t rightly fault them for that. They were just following a cause they believed in, one they’d fought for their whole lives, one that they thought was righteous and true.

  They were wrong, misled, but that wasn’t their fault, and seeing these familiar faces stare back at him, lifeless, it hurt more than any of his wounds.

  It took all morning until they had all the bodies piled atop a row of pyres that they’d hastily constructed from the remains of the gallows, the tents, and the stables. There hadn’t been anyone left in the work camp either, so everyone was here.

  Once the knights were on their pyres, the tree folk gathered behind him. They lit a torch and left it up to him to do the honors. That was natural, right? I knew them. I should do this.

  Should I say something?

  Dorrick didn’t think that would be wise. He didn’t think their souls would want a traitor like him to give them their last words, and truthfully, he didn’t think his would be sincere or good enough anyway.

  At least they were getting a proper Al-Sevaran sendoff. The city burned all bodies, in a belief that the ashes would return to the light of the sun, to the warm embrace of the great beyond, and the soul would rise with the smoke and ashes to the heavens. It was a belief he’d long held too. It also helped with land management, since they didn’t have to waste precious space on graves like wildlings did.

  It wasn’t his place to send these knights off. They deserved the full rites that the city could give them. Their families should be present, as well as the rest of the order, even if he disagreed with them. They deserved so much more. They didn’t deserve to be killed so far from home for an unjust cause, no matter how much they believed in it.

  But this was the truth of the matter, and Dorrick was all they had.

  Tears sprang unbidden from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, and he didn’t try to wipe them away. These were tears for comrades he’d once had, people he’d once called brother and sister.

  They were tears for his old life, never to be returned to him.

  “Rest in peace in the warm embrace of the sun,” he whispered.

  And lit the first pyre.

  15

  Tuni

  Tuni and the tree folk stood by and respectfully watched as Dorrick touched the torch to each pyre. He whispered some sort of prayer every time, and even a few steps away, she could hear the pain and sorrow in his voice.

  She didn’t like the knights. They were the enemy that wanted to take her home and everything she knew and loved, but she also knew that this was a family to Dorrick, one that he’d grown up and lived in his entire life. This couldn’t have been easy for him, having to fight his family. A family that was so happy to watch him hang.

  Once they were all consumed by the flame, she went up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, her cheek against his back. He stiffened for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

  “It’s okay, Dorrick,” she whispered. “It’s okay, and I’m sorry.”

  He released that breath, shaky and hard, and it seem like all the tension drained from his body.

  They stayed until the pyres were smoldering piles of ash. Tuni would have liked to leave sooner, and no doubt did some of the tree folk as well, but they all sensed that this meant something tremendous to Dorrick. He had their respect and trust, so they stayed, for him.

  When it was all over, he let the torch slip from his hand and then turned to her and marched back to the group.

  They all waited for him, silent as he came over, his hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes were downcast, his heavy lashes framing them from view. Tuni wanted to say something more, but what more could she say? What further comfort could she provide that was meaningful? She would be there for him, be a friend, someone to confide in, a shoulder to cry on. She didn’t know what else to do.

  When he stopped before them all, his eyes came up and he offered a weak smile that tried to convey that things would be okay. Tuni wanted to believe that look. She really did, because things had to be better, had to be okay, right?

  “Cheer up, everyone!” he suddenly exclaimed when he felt the pressure of their solemn stares finally weighing on him. “We won this day. We pushed back the forces of Al-Sevara. Smile!”

  And that seemed to do it. A spattering of whoops and cheers rang out, and tree folk laughed, smiled, patted each other on the back and shoulders in congratulatory gestures. It was much needed. Because it was a victory. One that hadn’t come without consequences, one that was likely the start of something far worse, but it was still a victory, still a message sent to the city.

  The wilds were theirs, and they would not be taken so easily.

  Tuni almost smiled thinking of that red woman Reshni sitting in her big throne back in the city, fuming over the news. Of course, if she herself got involved in the fighting, then things would get very, very bad. They only stood a chance against Reshni if Gayla came back. Tuni didn’t want to see that. It was terrifying enough to think of Asoka fighting against Bishta.

  The sages needed to be united in the fight against the Sage of the Dark, not fighting amongst themselves.

  Hopefully Reshni sees reason soon, Tuni prayed. They needed her in the fight—with them, not against them.

  With the battle won and the air still thick with smoke and the smell of blood, they gathered together and shsalited back to the village.

  The somber mood of the funeral gave way to celebration as they returned to the village alive and in one piece. They had won this battle. They’d pushed back the knights, rescued Dorrick and Shandi, and sent a message to the city that they had magic and were not to be taken lightly.

  This was only the first battle of a long-coming war, but they had started on a strong foot.

  Maybe it was the act of shsaliting, but Shandi woke as they arrived back. She coughed and was weak, but she still managed a strong enough hug on Tuni when she went to her side.

  “It’s good to see you, Teal-Eyes,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak but not sounding damaged. Time would tell, but she had a good feeling that Shandi would be fine, especially once Gayla got back.

  Tears pooled in Tuni’s eyes. “Yeah, you too.”

  The hug that Dorrick and her shared was fierce, strong, and long. His shoulders shook with emotion, and she could hear his soft cries. Shandi’s fingers gripped his shirt tightly. Tuni smiled at the display of affection. It was more affection than she’d ever seen out of the stoic sage’s apprentice. They really had grown close while she and Gayla had been away. If Dorrick hadn’t been one of them before, he was now.

  They were a family, and she was happy to be back together—if missing one key member.

  Once the hugs, kisses, and tears were through, the party began. In true tree folk fashion, it was time for a feast and grand dance. Usually, Tuni was all about parties. She wasn’t a stranger
to the weird, hot tree folk alcohol svevici, but she simply didn’t want to be swimming in her cups tonight. She was happy. Dorrick and Shandi were alive and safe—more or less—and she had all of her friends back together along with some new ones. She watched one such friend, Ash, dance with a little tree folk girl that was maybe as tall as her thigh and squealed with delight. Her sister, perhaps?

  Tuni wanted to grab Asoka and dance with her around the fire, like they’d done back in her mer village before they departed. She wanted to dance with Dorrick, and Ash, and anyone that wanted to, but there was something nagging at her. Something wrong.

  Where was Gayla?

  Where were the other sages?

  What was going to happen to her, to them, to the wilds, to the world?

  All these questions swirled around her mind as she ate and drank, and it thoroughly vexed her. She didn’t have the answers. If only the problems involved how to track down spirits or how to find all the ingredients to a fever potion or how to play a lute. She knew how to do all those things, but she didn’t know how to save the world.

  Tuni should not have been so bothered. It wasn’t her responsibility. As much as she would help, the real people that could save this earth were not her. They were the sages: Gayla, Asoka, Reshni, and the last one… Grear, that’s his name.

  They were the only ones who could defeat the girl. Yeah, Tuni could tackle her and punch her, but somehow, she just knew that a simple knife wouldn’t be enough to defeat Bishta. Somehow, she knew that if she were to simply stab the dark sage, only blackness would leak out, liquid shadow, pure evil. Bishta knew too many dark and unnatural things for her to die so simply and easily.

  Tuni knew that just on instinct.

  It wasn’t her responsibility, so why was she letting it get her down like this?

  As the sun retreated over the western mountains and the sky went ablaze with the deep orange glow of sunset, Tuni finally began to enjoy herself. The svevici was just starting to dull her senses, enough to make her smile and want to dance with Asoka and Ash and anyone who was willing. Dorrick still sat on a log next to Shandi. They watched the proceedings with muted interest. She didn’t blame them. It wasn’t really a happy occasion, and they’d been through so much. No doubt they were both in pain.