Lillian tore into a warm roll, jaw working at the oversized bite. She’d forced her gaze at the blurring guests dining about the great hall. Forks and knives tinkled against plates. Human servants swept between tables, pouring wine, and refilling water glasses. She wanted to watch it all crumble in a conflagration fueled by her hatred and the Dragon’s tireless rage. She could sweep it all away, turn it all into a heap of ash.
Helgar droned on. “Exceptional free humies like yourselves, I fear, are growing in numbers. Though Brenna’s kind has always found a place in Tigeria, despite her freedom.” He’d let out a dark snicker. “Those serving in your capacity… advisors,” he scoffed. “Are becoming far too numerous. I suppose that maybe you are one of the one in fifty-thousand.”
Hiko had let out a nervous laugh, and a hush fell over the round dining table.
Lillian swallowed her bread and took a long sip of amber wine. “Maybe.” She’d shrugged. The shoulder of her evening gown fell down her arm. She dragged it up, cheeks burning with an influx of blood.
“But perhaps… maybe not.” Helgar had laughed, and everyone laughed with him. Brenna gave her a hard grimace as if she were a misbehaving child.
Lovely day, isn’t it, Masa?” Helgar gave her a sly smile, gaze tracing her up and down, drawing her attention back to the plantation.
Hiko tilted his head at her, regarding her with shrewd eyes.
“Every day alive is a good day,” Lillian replied, stroking Kalli’s mane. She noticed the buckle on one of her stirrups needed to be adjusted as the leather strip was on the verge of slipping out. She dismounted and bent over to fix it.
A taskmaster glared at her. “You keep up with tour. Lazy humie scum. No time for that now,” he barked in broken Common. A few of his compatriot taskmasters let out bellowing laughs, hands resting easily on their favored weapons.
Lillian chuckled under her breath. Anger plowed through her veins like magma through the vast ocean. It pushed up her throat and scorched her mouth. She seized the Dragon in her grip, flickering behind her eyes. In a burst of clarity, she released just enough of its power until its fire wouldn’t show in her eyes, merely lending her physical strength. They laughed and laughed, their harsh voices cutting at her mind.
She blew a breath from her nostrils, turned from Kalli, and marched toward the taskmaster who had berated her. She couldn’t show weakness. The grin fell from his face, a fuzzy eyebrow arching in challenge. In a burst of speed, she gripped both rider and saddle, dragging him from atop his Tougere and sending him careening onto the ground with a yowl. The Tougere roared, rising onto its hindquarters.
Lillian drew her hunting knives, gleaming murderously bright. Sofor started to unfurl a lash from his hip, and Lillian dashed to his side before he could raise it, one dagger pressed against his throat. “Touch that weapon, and my blade tastes your blood.” She lowered her voice. “And by the Dragon are my blades thirsty.” His Tougere’s eye flicked to her, regarding her with what she considered curiosity. Sofor’s mouth fell open, his neck craning back as she pressed the blade enough to draw a bead of his blood.
The Tougere whose rider was clambering up, sat on its haunches like a dog, waiting beside his master.
Helgar bolted out of his seat, hands raised. “Everyone just take a breath. I saw it all, and you all got what you deserved. Put those blades down now, Masa. We can carry on civilized.”
“No… are you… did you see?” Sofor sputtered. Lillian drove the blade a bit harder, turning his face to the sky lest his throat be slit.
“I said we carry on civilized! Did you not hear me?” Helgar shouted. “You! Take your hand off that sword.” He gestured at a Tigerian taskmaster at her back. For him, she had a fireball prepared in her mind, a heartbeat away from crackling to life.
Lillian’s eyes found Brenna. She slightly shook her head, plump lips pressed into a white line. Her hands were by her side, twitching an inch from the throwing daggers at her thighs.
Sofor slowly opened his hand, dropping the lash on the ground. The taskmaster behind her obediently sheathed his sword.
“Good slaves. Do what your master tells you,” Lillian whispered to Sofor, a ferocious smile painted on her face. In a flash of dexterity, Lillian sheathed her daggers, stepping away from him.
“If everyone could stop antagonizing my business associates, that would please me greatly. There are no enemies here. Here, we’re all the same for now. Is that understood, Sofor?”
Sofor grunted, one side of his mouth twitching. “Understood.”
“You, get back on your Tougere. You’re holding us up,” Helgar sighed.
“Think that bitch broke my wrist,” the Tigerian taskmaster muttered, bracing it with one hand. He glared at Lillian.
“You’ll be alright.” Lillian winked at him, a genuine grin pasted on her face.
“Sofor, would you please help Niqam back on his Tougere,” Helgar crossed his arms.
Niqam let out a whine. “Wrist really hurts. Going to let this humie bitch get away with that?”
Sofor leaned from his saddle, scowling at her. “Got lucky, bitch. Yes, you did. You have Asrath’s own luck.”
“You better listen to your master,” Lillian said with a small smile. “Might need a bandage for your neck… I can put it on for you if you’d like.”
Sofor set his jaw, then forced it to relax so he could speak. “I can see you and I are going to become great friends. Maybe we can walk to the armory tonight, sharpen our knives together.”
“Sounds lovely. Perhaps we could walk arm in arm,” Lillian said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
Sofor’s hard countenance broke into a laugh. He heeled his Tougere into motion, chuckling.
“Let’s finish this tour, shall we?” Helgar motioned for his carriage driver to carry on.
Lillian nodded at Sofor and spat from the side of her mouth. She climbed back onto Kalli’s back. The group plodded onward, taking in the endless estate.
They approached an ancient tree whose height easily reached a hundred feet into the sky. A canopy of branches draped down against a section of muddied earth then curled back up to reach the sun. They entered under the canopy of branches, the air cool and providing a measure of relief from the sun.
Lillian’s head was on a swivel, gazing at every soiled face. She almost fell from her saddle when she saw him. Baylan sauntered beside her, grinning and laughing, silky hair ruffling in the breeze. His skin was clean and bright. He wore the same outfit he had on when they first touched the shores of Tigeria; billowy blue trousers, a cream tunic, a heavy black cloak.
She knew it wasn’t real. It was a vision, her mind betraying her and giving her what she wanted most. He followed her, his laugh joyous and deep. A thick branch came between them, and he did not emerge from the other side. She’d fallen far behind the group and rode up to join the tail end of the slave gang. She set her gaze back on the road, the smile slipping from her face.
She felt eyes on her, digging into her back. She slowly turned, expecting to perhaps find Sofor but found a man in overalls, glaring up at her on Kalli. He disdainfully spat. “Is there something you’d like to say?” Lillian prompted.
“No. Got nothing to say,” he said quickly, shifting his gaze forward, and trudging with a limp.
“Perhaps my blades might need to cut the words from your mouth.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the man muttered.
“Then don’t look at me unless I speak to you. Do you understand, slave?” Lillian said harshly. “If I find you looking at me like that again, I’ll make sure you never forget me.”
Lillian heeled Kalli into a gallop, riding along the line of downtrodden slaves. She raised her voice so they could all hear. “I know most of you don’t know who I am, but you should know I’m far worse than any of your Tigerian masters. You’ll regret testing me. Almost spilled your master Sofor’s blood. Keep your eyes off me, and all will be well.” As she traveled farther down the line and approache
d the carriage, she raised her voice so Helgar would hear. “Don’t fuck with me, and I won’t kill you, understand?”
She saw Helgar watching her with her peripheral vision. She drew up at the rear of the cart as Helgar swung about to speak to Brenna. “Your associate has an iron hand… for a humie,” Helgar said with a grin. Hiko chortled.
Brenna laughed, shaking her head. “She indeed can be fiery. Now you see why I keep her around.”
Helgar peered back over the carriage’s ornamented edge, giving Lillian a tip of his hat.
Brenna leaned her elbows on her knees. “Would you perhaps mind if we stopped for a moment? I need to speak with Masa. I fear that she may make a hasty purchasing decision when you show us your finest brawling specimens, and I want to make sure her head is clear.”
They stopped. Lillian dismounted as Brenna approached her, striding off to the side of the road with Kalli for some privacy. They both leaned their backs against her, facing a large tract of root vegetables.
“What is it?” Lillian asked as a formality, guessing this was because of what she just said to the enslaved.
“I can confirm Baylan is indeed here, at Oakmourn. Helgar mentioned his name, and you were right, he is working as his personal librarian,” Brenna whispered.
A flutter passed through Lillian’s heart. She swallowed, shifting her gaze between Helgar and Brenna. She opened her mouth to speak, paused, then asked, “Are you certain it’s the same Baylan? My Baylan?”
Brenna tilted her head. “I can’t be certain, but it is a rare name and an odd coincidence that he is tending to his books, wouldn’t you agree? Naturally, it is unwise for us to make assumptions, but in this case, I think it’s worth the risk. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Lillian groaned. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize to me. This is for you, remember. Master yourself. Don’t get so carried away with your need for vengeance. Not now, not yet. The time will come. Don’t ruin your chance to find him. Don’t forget why we’re here.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Lillian hissed. “You think I could possibly forget?”
Brenna quickly nodded “Yes, yes I do. Retribution can cloud anyone’s good faculties. Stop antagonizing Helgar. You’re not making this easy. He said he thought about having you hung.”
“What? Well, he can go ahead and try,” Lillian seethed.
“Listen to what you’re saying. This is not why we’re here.” Brenna stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re going to ruin everything. Play the game. And don’t show your power or you’re likely to get us both killed. Do you not think he has Equalizers? Do you know how fortunate you are that you were not discovered back there?”
“I…” Lillian had no words. Once again, Brenna was right, but there was a spot where she was wrong.
“I value my life and don’t intend to die in these corrupted lands. Think about more than just the world beyond your heart,” Brenna said, jabbing her in the chest with her taloned fingers.
“Ow!” Lillian whispered, throwing her hand off. “Helgar likes me. I’m holding his interest and his curiosity, both of which are difficult to grasp. We need it to stay close to him,” she said inches from Brenna’s face.
“And you think the best way to do that is to abuse these ruined men? You were like them once, have you forgotten?”
Lillian gave Brenna a hard stare. “Do you recall the time when I killed my first target? When you gave me the bounty to kill a Tigerian before his innocent child? You didn’t care then about what we did to that youth, slaughtering his father before his eyes. You remember that, don’t you?”
Brenna gazed to her left with a heavy sigh, shaking her head. “Yes, of course I remember that,” she snapped.
Brenna looked back at her, and Lillian gave her a level stare. “You told me then that, sometimes, the light could only be reached after crawling through the mud. Now I’m getting muddy. Understand?”
Brenna rolled her eyes. “You’re taking what I said far too literally, but I guess that is what I said.” She blew out her cheeks and raked a hand through her luxurious dark hair. “See you back at the mansion; don’t want to test Helgar’s patience.” She motioned toward him with her head.
After about another half-hour of easy riding, they approached a forest’s fringe and entered its fold. Great ferns draped over a well-worn path, dappling lances of sunlight. The wind drew faint rustles from their dagger leaves as they twitched and swayed. Their gnarled branches held coiling vines laced with wispy moss, some hanging low like an inviting hangman’s noose.
The road was narrow and its edge held at least ten years of rotting fronds. The rotting mounds were topped with fat pastel mushrooms resembling the colors of Shroomlings in the Zorian continent. These did not move like Shroomlings when approached. Shroomlings were humanoid creatures that stood no taller than a man’s hand. Their heads resembled mushroom caps used as camouflage. They typically fled in terror when one drew too close.
For a moment, Lillian was glad Baylan wasn’t traveling with them. He would have spent the last hour delaying them while he examined every new bit of flora and fauna. She gave an inward laugh at that, pulling a smile from her cold expression and feeling how hard it had been. She was finding this role too easy to play.
She knew they were drawing upon the living by the smell of shit. Both man and Tigerian alike twitched their noses in disgust. As predicted, the road opened into a clearing with a shack, a well, and a smoking latrine that was ready to be buried. She wanted to gag.
Frogs sang a chorus from some unseen body of water. Parrots fluttered between the branches, their feathers a garish mix of blues, reds, greens, and violets. It was as if they had been suddenly transported to another realm.
A shirtless Tigerian sauntered around from the edge of the latrine as he tugged up a pair of threadbare trousers. He hummed a strange tune that only a drunk or an invalid could produce. He drew a flask from his pocket and took a sip. A drunk then. He froze at the edge of the shack, staring at her with his bisected feline lips hanging open. Lillian slowly turned to flatly regard him, steeling herself for the inevitable comment about her freedom.
Another Tigerian emerged from the shadows of the shack, eyes slitted against the light. Given his expression, she assumed they must’ve woken him from a nap. He wore heavy overalls with a tan shirt beneath. On his waist was a belt with a long knife and various carpenter’s tools. His eyes went wide as he found her, producing a snicker from Lillian.
The group carried on. At the other side of the shack was a pair of Tigerians working a two-man saw through a log. They both halted at seeing Lillian on horseback. One of the pair ambled over to her, wiping off sawdust matted in sweat among his ocher fur. He peered up at her as if inspecting a mortared pillar for cracks. Lillian set her jaw, staring back, and daring him to comment. He only stared as she passed. She slowly and deliberately turned her gaze back to the road.
A female Tigerian standing at the edge of the forest had an axe over her shoulder, behind her a partially chopped tree. She wore a heavy cloak over a lithe figure. She stared too. And when Lillian met her stare, the Tigerian’s eyes viciously narrowed, axe hand flexing against the wooden haft.
A deep growling reached her ears, drawing her eyes ahead. Three Tougeres clawed at the base of a tree. Between a pair of thick branches perched a man staring down at them in abject horror. Their giant claws ripped strips of bark free as if it were made of dirt. Behind the Tougeres were three Tigerians laughing at what was apparently something humorous.
The group halted to observe the cruel spectacle at Helgar’s behest. Lillian rode up behind the triplicate of Tigerians, scoffing in disbelief.
Helgar clapped and rose to stand. “Lovely work. It appears my dedicated hunters found our escapee. Why would you be so foolish to try escaping? You know no one ever leaves unless I permit it.” He placed his hands on his hips.
“I can’t fight men anymore, Master Helgar. I simply can’t do it; it’
s not in my nature. Please don’t make me do it anymore,” the man whimpered as a Tougere leaped, raking away ragged strips of bark inches from his bare feet. “Please, Master Helgar, anything but brawling.”
Helgar stabbed the air with his pipe. “Indeed, you can! You might be the worst among my fighters, but it doesn’t mean you can’t get better. You see, the joy of life is constant improvement.”
The man pressed himself back against a branch as another Tougere leaped, jaws snapping and spittle flying.
Helgar gave a high-pitched growl. “Nezo, would you please call them off? Their damn growling is making it hard for me to think.”
Nezo had a long mane of white hair standing from his head down to his neck. He gave a hard nod to Helgar, then barked out a series of whistles. The leaping Tougeres relented, then started circling the tree. Each of the three Tigerians mounted a Tougere, drawing them about ten feet back from where the man took gulping breaths.
The ragged Tigerian hunters from the outpost clustered in a knot on the edge of the road. They watched the scene unfold with amused smiles.
Once the Tougeres had been controlled by their masters, Helgar continued. “You listen to me now and remember who I am. Climb out of that tree.”
Hiko shook his head in disdain, standing beside Helgar. Brenna bit her lower lip, peering out between them from the carriage.
“Right, okay,” the man huffed and clambered down to the ground. “I did what you said, Master Helgar,” the man said with an appeasing smile. “See? I can listen.”
The growling in Helgar’s chest seemed to magnify in intensity. He swung the door of his cart open and stepped down, polished boots reflecting the sun. He slowly walked towards the man, brushing off nothing from the lapels of his crisp suit jacket. The man watched him, tongue circling his sunburned lips.
A piercing shriek called from a pair of parrots. A dark cloud slid before the sun, casting the world in a grim light. Leaves crunched under Helgar’s boots. He stopped before Nezo, studying the trembling recaptured man. “How long did it take you to find him?”
Forsaken Hunters_Book Zero of The Age of Dawn_A Prequel Page 11