by A. L. Knorr
"Where are you headed?" he asked.
"To Charra-Rae," said Jordan. She looked down at Sol and her stomach clenched with worry. "It's even more important that we get there as quickly as possible now. From what I understand, they have all kinds of healing magic."
She looked up at Toth. This is no time to be shy, Jordan. Sol's life hangs in the balance. "Would you accompany us there?” she asked. “He's one of you."
Toth blinked in surprise and then belted out a laugh, startling Jordan. The sound was deep and genuine and the smile transformed him into someone she could almost envision bouncing babies on a knee. "You don't need to lie to get me to escort you. You're wearing the indigo; that's enough. You could have put in for an escort before you left Nishpat."
"I'm not lying," Jordan said, affronted. "He's winged, too. He just lost his wings—" and there she halted. Sol had warned her not to speak about the portal. She changed her approach. "If you help me get him up on a horse, you'll see for yourself that his vest is just like yours, with the openings at the back."
Toth grunted. "Well if he's a Nycht, he's not from around here. I know all the Nychts in The Conca, even the ones way up at Praiff."
Nychts? Jordan absorbed this thoughtfully but hesitated to ask him to define the term. She assumed he meant his kind. It seemed that tipping strangers off that she wasn’t from around here could be dangerous business. "It seems inadequate," said Jordan, "but thank you for saving our lives."
"Thank the treaty," Toth answered. He jerked his chin toward the unconscious Sol. "I'm not sure I came along soon enough to save his, though there'll be no penalty if he dies. He's not wearing any indigo."
Jordan blinked as the understanding finally dawned. She felt dumb. It had been staring her in the face. "That's why you saved us? Because of the indigo?"
Toth put his now shining weapons back in their holsters. "There is an agreement between the Nychts of The Conca and its human citizens. Those who wear the indigo are protected and defended."
"Not for free, I'll wager."
"Nothing is ever free. The Nychts of The Conca aren't farmers or tailors, but we need food and clothing as much as anyone." Toth jerked his head toward the harpy carcass. "Even those abominations know about the indigo by now. That's why she only went after your friend." He nodded toward Sol.
"Actually, she came after me and the horses first. He diverted her."
Toth grunted his surprise. "Bold. Perhaps she thought she could get away with it. I've been up against her before. She was a real battle-axe and crafty." Jordan thought he spoke of his foe with a kind of respect.
Toth’s eyes flashed up to the grove where Jordan had tied up the two horses. Their heads were up, eyes trained on Toth and their ears twitched forward and back. They were much calmer now and seemed to understand that the danger had passed.
Toth took out a serrated blade and strode toward a grove of trees. "I'll make up a soirat for him," he said. "He's in no condition to be draped over the back of a horse like a sack of puskers." He stopped and put a hand to his chest and then to his belt like he was looking for something. He retrieved a small bottle from a pocket at his hip and turned back to hand it to Jordan. "Put this on his wounds; it'll close them up temporarily." He turned and went to the grove.
Jordan held the small, amber glass bottle up to the light. A slow-moving liquid shifted inside it. She knelt beside Sol and began to untie the bandages she'd put on him.
"Sol," she said near his ear. "Can you hear me? Can you wake up?"
His eyes cracked open ever so slightly. "Awake," he croaked. He made to lift his head.
"Stay down," Jordan said. "The less you move the better. We'll get you to Charra-Rae, he's going to help us." Jordan blew out a breath. "Thank God."
Sol's icy blue eyes focused beyond Jordan on the Nycht that was now sawing at a branch in the copse of trees. "Nycht," he grated out.
"Yes and that brings me to a question." Jordan had the bandage off and uncorked the small bottle. She upturned it over the nasty ragged wound and watched the gel-like substance crawl down the bottle. "Why didn't you get some indigo for yourself to wear? You knew it would protect you."
Sol gave a soft grunt and closed his eyes.
Jordan had her suspicions. "Ego can get you—" she paused, fascinated, as she watched the gel drop onto the wound and begin to move. The gel spread out to the edges of the torn skin and turned opaque. The substance began to shrink, pulling the edges together and forming a lumpy seam. "Killed." She looked at the bottle. "This stuff is amazing!"
"Nyop-" Sol took a breath.
"Nyopsis," she finished. The same stuff Sol had put on the horses’ wounds. "I should start an import business to Earth." She tied the bandages closed again.
"Doesn't last." The words came out on a whisper and ended with a grunt of pain.
"Yeah, Toth said it was temporary." She stoppered the bottle. "That's our new friend over there."
Sol's eyes opened and locked on Toth's back. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Jordan thought maybe Sol was going to say something important.
“Water,” Sol rasped.
Jordan retrieved the water pouch and held it for Sol while he drank. The sounds of Toth sawing and ripping branches apart echoed off the cliffs.
Toth approached the horses and Jordan followed, leaving Sol’s side only because she wasn’t sure how the animals would react to the newcomer. But they stayed calm and even put their muzzles in Toth's armpit by way of hello. They stamped their feet and whinnied, tossing their heads, their ears perked forward. It was almost like they were greeting an old friend.
Toth spoke in his language to one of the horses, his voice soothing. He looked at Jordan over his shoulder. "Can you live without this saddle?"
"I guess. Why?"
"I need it for parts." Toth undid the saddle and pulled it off the animal’s back. "Bring him."
Jordan led the bay to where Toth had constructed a strange looking frame. She watched as Toth sliced apart the saddle, taking the leather straps and parts of the fenders and skirt. He lashed the scraps to the frame he’d created and mounted the whole lot on the back of the bay. It was almost a bed, with two flexible branches running down on either side of the horse’s back and more woven branches making a sort of netting.
"Looks like you've done this before," Jordan commented, impressed.
Toth grunted in answer and went to Sol. "Can you stand, lad?"
Sol's eyes blazed and he clenched his jaw and moved to sit upright. Jordan suspected he didn't much care to be called 'lad'.
Jordan helped Sol take his weapons holsters off; they’d only cause him pain when he lay in the soirat. She got an arm under his shoulder. "Speaking of having done this before…" she said. It wasn't that long ago that she was helping a wounded Sol to hobble across her lawn.
With Jordan's help, Sol made his way to the horse and Toth boosted him up onto the back of the bay where he could lay with his wounded side up. Jordan used what was left of her tattered cloak to make a pillow for under his chest. Turmoil and pain bleached Sol's face of color. No doubt it was embarrassing for someone of Sol's ability and stature to be rescued and then reduced to cargo.
Jordan handed Sol a waterskin. "Do you need anything else?"
Sol shot her a glare.
Jordan held up her palms. "Sorry." She watched Toth walk away to get the gray horse. "Try to be a teensy bit grateful. Without him, we'd be dead."
It was the wrong thing to say, even if it was true.
"Fuck off, Jordan." Sol lay his head down and closed his eyes, his mouth in a tight line.
Jordan bit her cheeks against a smile. Apparently, he really hates being vulnerable. Maybe he even blames me for this whole predicament. I didn’t mean to open a portal. What’s that saying about ‘the road to hell…’? She turned away, but a grunt from Sol made her turn back.
Sol gestured to the bushes just off the road. “My satchels.”
Jordan retrieved them and dropped them ove
r her head and shoulder, letting them rest across her body. Sol gazed at her and dropped his outstretched hand. Jordan waited for him to ask for them—a request she’d refuse, since they’d be safer with her. After a second’s hesitation, he didn’t protest. His expression softened and he lay his head down on the soirat.
Jordan gathered Sol’s discarded, bloody knives from the dirt, as well as his sword. She cast about for the spear but it was nowhere to be seen. She cleaned the weapons the way Toth had done his and returned the throwing knives to their places in Sol’s leather holster. Considering the weapons, she took a moment to strap them to herself. Better her than Sol, at this point.
Toth brought her the gray and she swung up onto her back.
"Do we just leave her there?" Jordan asked, glancing at the harpy carcass.
"Her own kind will take care of her," said Toth with a grunt. He took the bridle of the bay and led the odd group onward as they continued north.
***
Jordan watched the back of the amazing winged mercenary for an hour, replaying his awe-inspiring aerobatic feats in her mind. Finally, she nudged her horse up beside him. She peeked in at Sol on her way by. His eyes were closed, his color pale, but his chest rose and fell steadily,
"So," she said casually, keeping pace with Toth as he walked. "What's your story?"
He glanced up at her and then back down as he led the horse between a cluster of thorny bushes. "My story? You wish to converse?"
"Of course," Jordan replied. "You're…" Her eyes skimmed his enormous leathery wings, the long hooked claws at the tops of them, the muscular chest and arms and the seemingly countless straps and pockets for holding all kinds of weaponry. "A force."
Toth chuckled. "You should meet my brother."
"You have a brother?"
"Eleven brothers."
"Good heavens. Your poor mother. Any sisters?"
"Four sisters."
"And where are you in that enormous lineup?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Seventh."
"And are they all deadly, too?"
He shook his head. "Caje and I are the only mercenaries in our family. The rest of them are still in Rodania." Jordan thought that from the way he said it, Toth wasn't overly happy about this.
She shifted on her horse in an effort to ease her aching thigh muscles. "That's where Sol is from, too."
Toth nodded. "Most of us are."
Jordan chewed her lip. "When I said Sol was one of you, I meant winged."
Toth looked up at her.
"But he referred to himself as Arpak, not Nycht. I was wondering—"
Toth brought the horse to a halt, his lined face registering first surprise, then annoyance.
Jordan's gray halted and she lurched forward on the horse. "…what the difference was. What? What's wrong?"
Toth started walking again with a sour look. "Should have known," he muttered. "Should have let him die."
"Why? You don't like Arpaks?"
Toth huffed a dry laugh. "More like they don't like us. Nychts are second-class citizens in Rodania. It's the reason the rebels left. The Arpaks have always thought themselves superior."
Jordan's brow furrowed. The memory of Toth facing off with the harpy rose to mind. Capable. Frightening. "How does that make any sense?"
"They justify it in lots of ways," Toth said. "Nychts are nocturnal, so unless we force ourselves to go against our nature, we miss out on all of the goings on during the day—which is when all the business is done and big decisions are made." Toth got more animated, sweeping his hand in the air as he talked. "Arpaks will tell you that they're more intellectual, while Nychts are biologically better as laborers and soldiers. The structure of Strix society is designed to put Arpaks into positions of power - politicians, scholars, philosophers, doctors, lawyers, bureaucrats–it’s all dominated by Arpaks." Toth shook his head.
"They won't admit it, but they'll block any Nycht who wants to make something more of themself than a soldier or a tradesperson." He shot Jordan a look and raised a scarred finger. "Don't be fooled. They'll act like they're all for equality, but they'll cut off any Nycht who might be good enough to climb their way up in society—and then blame it on our natural inferiority." Toth's voice rose and fell with passion. "But they can't fool us. If anyone doubts it, all they need to do is look at the Council."
Jordan had a feeling she knew where this was going. The problem was an ancient one. Prejudice. "Let me guess. They're all Arpaks?"
"Every last one." Toth said through clenched teeth.
"The Council? That's—"
"Strix government." Toth turned his head away from Jordan and spat. "Sorry," he wiped his mouth.
Jordan unhooked her waterskin from the pommel of her saddle and handed it to Toth.
"Thanks." He took a couple of long draughts, his throat working and then he handed the waterskin back to Jordan. "I know where all the best water is everywhere along The Conca, so I never carry any with me. But I'm also never earthbound."
Jordan's mind was hooked by the Nycht/Arpak conflict. Is what Toth said about the inequality true, or exaggerated? She remembered the grim look on Sol’s face when he learned that they’d been rescued by a Nycht. Every conflict has two sides. She wondered what Sol would have to say about the Nychts and made a mental note to ask him when he was well. "Does a Strix have to campaign for a position on The Council?"
Toth nodded. "All except for the king."
"So you have a monarch, as well?"
"He's not my king!" Toth said, passionately.
"Arpak?" Jordan guessed.
Toth bowed his head toward her, his lip curling with a sneer. "Of course."
"Interesting." Jordan was fascinated. It wasn't any different than the prejudices that women or non-whites have faced throughout all of history on Earth. "So when a Nycht campaigns for Council—"
Toth barked a laugh. "Nychts aren't allowed to run for Council." The look he shot her was full of acid.
"They can't even try?"
Toth shook his head. "See what I mean? When challenged about it, Arpaks hide behind our 'biological differences' and 'natural strengths', but, believe me, they have no interest in ever giving Nychts a place at the table."
"I'm beginning to understand why you left," Jordan said. "But you never tried coming together to fight it?"
"No point," Toth grunted. "The Arpaks are too powerful and have no desire to change."
"Do they allow women on the council?"
Toth looked surprised. "Of course! Half of the seats are reserved for female Arpaks."
"Oh."
"In fact, the original Council, formed almost seventeen hundred years ago, was all women. Men were only given a place one thousand years later." Toth scratched his head. "If my history is correct. It wasn't my best subject."
This just gets more and more interesting, thought Jordan. "So the Arpaks can change the rules. They could be convinced—"
"There are those who are trying," Toth admitted. "I wish them luck; it would be easier to pass through Golpa than to change that law."
"Golpa?"
"A massive underground network of caves full of harpies. Some say that's where the first harpy was bred."
Jordan's skin crawled at the thought of a place that hosted more than one of those dreadful creatures. "Where is it?"
Toth jerked his chin straight ahead, toward The Conca that stretched out endlessly in front of them. "All the way at the North end."
"You said ‘bred’. Someone is breeding them?"
Toth shrugged. "Maybe. They're a hybrid." He spat off to the side again. "’Scuse me. Revolting creatures. That's a crossbreed that should never have happened. It never would have happened without some kind of help."
"A hybrid of what?"
"Greater-vulture and dragon," Toth answered.
Jordan gasped. "You have dragons?!"
Toth narrowed his eyes up at her. "Just where are you from, Jordan?"
"Uh," she stumbled
. "Not…here."
"Clearly." He raised his brows but didn't pry.
Jordan heard sounds of shifting from the horse-mounted bed and she pulled her horse back. "Sol," Jordan gasped, alarmed. His skin had turned a sickly gray and a sheen of sweat covered his face, neck and arms. His long dark hair was soaked and sticking to his scalp.
"We need to stop," said Jordan. "He doesn't look good."
Toth kept the horse moving. "That'll be the infection setting in," he said calmly. "There's a place to stop up ahead."
"Infection?" Jordan echoed.
"Harpy claws are filthy; some say poisonous, though I don't think anyone's proven it."
"You don't sound concerned." Jordan pulled up alongside Toth again.
Toth lifted a shoulder. "Some live. Some die."
"What?" Jordan halted her horse. Her gut began to churn as she watched Sol pass by her. She dismounted and left the gray to follow along behind the brown horse. She jogged up to Toth. "He can't die. What can we do? Don't you have some kind of potion or something?" She fought to quell the rising panic. "Something else like the nyopsis, but for infection?"
"I'm not a doctor," said Toth. "And Strix don't have magic."
"Ugh," she groaned. "Don't remind me." Frustration rose at Toth's indifference. "Have you ever been scratched by a harpy?"
"Many times. First time is always the worst. Best thing for him is to find a doctor, or an Elf." Toth waggled his head back and forth as though weighing options. "I don't know of any doctors between here and Charra-Rae, so we might as well continue on." He shot her a cocked eyebrow. "If you're sure the Elves of Charra-Rae are the ones you need to see."