by E B Rose
But she could have helped her farm.
She looked at her shoulder bag, heavy with the weight of the coins. She could see the outline of the bulging coin purse in it.
Three hundred and fifty Chinderia Blues…
By the grace of Twelve, it was more money than she could ever imagine seeing together. Not only she could pay off her debt, she would still have enough to buy Master Tholthus’s shop. She imagined everything she could do with this money.
Three hundred and fifty Blues...
The cost of a man’s life.
Olira sobbed again. “Stop it,” she told herself. She was sick of crying. The slave was going to be okay. Lodi seemed like a decent man. Olira believed him when the young man said the slave was going to be treated fairly; fed and dressed better than Olira could have afforded. Maybe this was better for him.
She stood up and faced the direction of Oxreach. Twice already, she’d attempted to go after the three men to try and buy the slave back. She’d lost enough time. She was going back home. She glanced over her shoulder one last time.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She promised herself; if she ever saw the slave again, she was going to help him. She believed it when she made this promise.
As she walked on the well-maintained trade road on her own, she tried to distract herself with other thoughts. She needed to start thinking how she would get back to Oxreach. The road this close to Kilrer was being patrolled by soldiers, but once she walked past Attlecana Grove, she was going to be a target for bandits, like the ones who attacked Master Ashin’s convoy.
She paused and looked over her shoulder again. Maybe she should have gone to Kilrer and hired some mercenaries to escort her back to Oxreach. She could also buy a horse and make up for the time she’d lost. And, if she happened to see those three men at Kilrer…
Olira sighed and followed the road south. She wasn’t going to Kilrer. She was just going to have to be careful. If only she could come across another merchant’s convoy...
Alunwea must have already forgiven her, because Olira’s luck had just turned out. A large group of uniformed soldiers, all mounted and in a crisp formation, were coming her way. Although they seemed to be in a bit of a hurry - trotting and leaving dust clouds behind them - Olira thought maybe she could talk and convince them to...
The first few pairs of soldiers trotted past Olira and halted behind her. Others pulled up their horses around her. As if... surrounding her.
Olira narrowed her eyes; an unsure feeling creeping inside her stomach. She forced a polite smile on her face. Her gaze flickered between their sheathed weapons, and the neat uniforms with the bear coat of arms on their chests.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Olira said. Her tone was trapped between friendly and annoyed. “I’m glad I came across...”
“Olira Aryanna?” A giant man with stripes on his shoulders, which announced he was some sort of high-ranking officer, brought his horse forward. He had bleached blonde hair, pink cheeks, and a confrontational attitude.
“Umm... Excuse me?”
“Are you Olira Aryanna from Oxreach?” The giant man asked impatiently.
“Yes, but... What is this about?” How did this man know her name? Or where she was from? Or where to find her? Although she knew it was completely illogical, Olira couldn’t help but worry about her brothers. Was this about them? Did something bad happen to them? Her thoughts and worries chased each other.
Another man, still carrying a bear symbol on his clothes, but dressed differently from the others, snapped at her rudely. “Where’s the slave?”
“What? I...” Olira’s forehead creased. “How do you... Who are you?”
The giant blonde glared at the other, then straightened his back as he spoke to Olira.
“Olira Aryanna, you are under arrest.”
20
BEAST
“So…”
“So?”
“Lodi means…?”
“Your Highness.”
“Huh.”
Beast laid still on the surface of the black water. His chest was rising and falling steadily. He watched the dark ceiling of the flooded cave. Cold water soothed his burning, aching muscles.
“He’s Lygor Zarall, prince of Chinderia. Son of late King Leonis.”
“Correct,” the demon purred.
“What does that mean for me?”
Keder delayed his reply. Beast’s eyes closed halfway, almost drifting into a pleasant sleep. Cold water tickled his face playfully.
“Listen, and I’ll tell you when to speak.”
21
VALNAR
Valnar poked the campfire with a stick, scattering sparks in the air. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was almost behind the hills. Then, he glanced at the woods for what felt like the hundredth time.
“He’ll be okay,” Ink said. Valnar grunted. He was still angry at the Kaldorian, for letting Lygor go.
As soon as the city of Kilrer was far behind them, Lygor had broken into a gallop. Ink went after him, leaving Valnar to supervise the slave, who was struggling to keep up.
Valnar hated not being able to go after Lygor. He had almost failed him once today, and still carried the guilt of it. However, he couldn’t leave Beast behind; not after the lengths they went to obtain him. He forced the slave into a ruthless run and cursed every time he had to stop and wait for him to catch up.
He had found Ink by the edge of a grove. Lygor had left his horse with him and borrowed his bow, saying he wanted to hunt. So, Valnar and Ink had lit a campfire, and had been waiting for nearly an hour, with no sign of Lygor.
“Why don’t you go and pray?” Ink suggested. “I know you want to. I’ll keep an eye on the slave.”
The slave didn’t need keeping an eye on. Valnar doubted if the creature could even lift a finger up, let alone attempt to escape. He was lying flat on his back, his eyes closed, his mouth half open, his chest heaving up and down steadily. No, the beast was the least of Valnar’s concerns tonight.
He scowled at the woods, reluctantly admitting Ink was right. He wanted to pray. He had almost let Lygor down, got him killed. Not to mention he had sinned by swearing multiple times today. He needed to repent and beg for Kiejain’s forgiveness.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Take your time.”
Although Valnar had much to repent for tonight, he held the short ritual, wanting to get back to the camp as soon as possible in case Lygor had returned. He drew a circle on the soil, sat in it, and recited a short passage to Kiejain. He finished it by pressing his forehead on the cold ground and begging his forgiveness, for his sins and for almost failing his Prince.
When he returned to the campfire, Lygor still wasn’t back.
“It’s getting late,” Valnar grunted. Ink shrugged. Valnar kept himself busy by grooming the horses, setting up their beds, and sorting out their diminishing supplies. Just when he decided to go look for him, Lygor walked into the campfire.
“Kiejain’s might! Where have you been?”
Lygor threw a dead rabbit near the fire and left Ink’s bow and arrows by the saddle bags. He fished out his skinning knife, sat down by the fire, and started cleaning the rabbit.
“Lodi...” Valnar started, but he didn’t know how to proceed. He was not used to seeing his prince without that arrogant, carefree smirk. Lygor was angry, disappointed, and felt betrayed. He was hurting, and Valnar didn’t know what to do for him. “Let me do that for you.”
“No.”
Valnar stepped back and let Lygor skin and gut the dead animal with his hands. When the meat was ready, Valnar grilled it while Lygor got cleaned up. They sat down to eat in silence.
“We considered the possibility of Lord Rhuagh selling us out,” Valnar broke the uncomfortable silence. “We can still...”
“He didn’t sell us out,” Lygor snapped. “He kicked us out of his city and told us to come back with better odds.”
“You are the rightful he
ir,” Valnar grumbled. “He’s committing treason.”
“And he will be punished, but not a moment before I have an army behind me.”
Valnar put his plate down and wiped his greasy hands on his pants. “There’s still Lord Miraris. We already discussed he’s a little unpredictable, but he has enough money to buy an army. I could go and talk to him alone, figure out where his loyalties are.”
“I know where Lord Miraris’s loyalties are: on money. I’ll go to King Zumnorin, before I gamble my neck with Lord Miraris.”
“Yeah... nah. I wouldn’t recommend that,” Ink chimed in. “You know what my father will ask for in return.”
“And I will never give up a handful of soil to Kaldorians. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“We need an army. We need allies. And we need money for them both.”
“In that case, we have to gather intel and find some leverage on anyone,” Valnar suggested. “I know a guy in...”
The slave cleared his throat loudly. All three of them stopped talking and turned to look at the creature sitting ten feet from them. He was still sleeping when Valnar had left a plate next to him before. He hadn’t even heard him sitting up.
Valnar glowered at him, suddenly uncomfortable by the fact that the purebred had been listening to their conversation. When he noticed he was holding his fist against his neck, requesting for permission to speak, Valnar’s discomfort turned to outrage.
“Speak,” Lygor commanded before Valnar could say anything.
Uncertainty played on Beast’s face. He opened his mouth, looked away, and for a moment, he seemed to regret gaining their attention. He moved to sit closer to them. His eyes darted around, looking anywhere but their faces. “Umm...” he said quietly. “There’s... there’s Twilight of Infinity.”
Lygor narrowed his eyes while Valnar’s scowl deepened. Ink simply looked confused. They waited for him to elaborate.
“Umm... It’s a... It’s a big tournament. Very large. And... there’s a money prize. A great sum.”
A vein popped up on Valnar’s forehead. His face started turning red.
“Several thousand Blues,” Beast continued. “I don’t know if that would buy you an army, but I can win it...”
“Stop talking, right now,” Valnar growled. “How dare you think...”
“I can’t let you fight in an arena,” Lygor interrupted. “Kastian Vogros is looking for you too. As soon as you walk into an arena of that size, people will recognize you.”
“Twilight of Infinity is at Euroad,” Beast pressed on.
“Huh.” Lygor tilted his head, regarding the purebred thoughtfully.
Valnar breathed through his nose. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading and he didn’t like the fact that the slave was leading it there. “I ordered you to stop talking.”
Beast ignored him and stared directly at Lygor. “Why did you buy me, Master?”
“Phrijtivaviula!”
“Valnar!”
Valnar stood up and looked down at the purebred thrashing at his feet. “I gave him an order, and he disobeyed,” Valnar defended himself.
“I gave him the permission to speak!”
“Then I told him to stop talking, and he chose not to listen. Look, Lodi, we shouldn’t even be discussing him. We need to decide on our best course of action...” He glared at the slave who was gasping shakily. “And he needs to know his place.”
“Euroad...” mused Ink. “Isn’t that an independent city?”
“Hey!” Valnar snapped his head up. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not going there.”
“Yes,” Lygor explained to Ink, ignoring Valnar’s protests. “Chinderian throne doesn’t have a say on the internal affairs of the city.”
“That doesn’t mean Kastian wouldn’t have any allies in there,” Valnar objected. “We need someone we can trust, and the best way to establish trust is to find some leverage.”
“Kastian is afraid of a riot,” the purebred spoke without permission. He spoke without permission! His voice was hoarse. He had lifted himself off the ground on his elbows and was speaking facing the dirt floor. “He doesn’t have allies in every Chinderian’s house.”
Valnar looked at him, his eyes wide open. He couldn’t believe the slave was deliberately disobeying him. He remembered the rumours about the Lion of Zarall; how he was broken. The truth of those rumours slapped him in the face. He had an unreliable, uncontrollable, disobedient, broken purebred who was born and raised to be the most efficient killer. Cold sweat trickled down his back. “Phrijtivaviula.”
“I order you to stop using that word,” Lygor growled. He was up on his feet. His jaw was set and his voice was carefully controlled.
“Lodi... Lygor...” Valnar had seen that fierce stare many times on Lygor’s face, but he’d never been the recipient of it. He felt somewhere between embarrassed and heartbroken. He wanted to explain to Lygor that the slave had committed an Act of Defiance. A disobeying, broken purebred was a dangerous thing.
He glanced at Ink, looking for assistance, but the Kaldorian was busy, staring at his food. At Valnar’s feet, the slave was gasping in agony.
“He... he disobeyed,” Valnar defended himself weakly.
Lygor breathed through his nose. “I need some space.” He turned and walked into the dark woods, leaving half his food untouched.
Beast made a noise between grunting and growling. He climbed up on his feet after several attempts. He thrusted his chest out, balled his hands into fists. He was bathed in sweat, his muscles still twitched, but he stood tall and stared directly into Valnar’s eyes.
Another Act of Defiance.
Valnar returned Beast’s gaze. He had to suppress a shiver. He now knew why the slave unnerved him since the beginning. The creature staring at him behind those grey eyes was not simply an empty shell with no rhoa. There was something else other than a rhoa inside him.
“Get out of my sight,” Valnar whispered. He’d feared the purebred would disobey again, forcing Valnar to choose between breaking Lygor’s order or letting this go unpunished. Both options were equally impossible.
To his surprise, Beast turned and walked away to where he had been lying before. He sat down, pulled his plate in front of him, and started eating.
Valnar hardly peeled his eyes off Beast’s hunched figure. He looked towards the deep shadows of the woods.
“Yeah... I wouldn’t go after him right now,” Ink said, tracking his gaze. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but he was a bit angry.”
“I’m not going after him,” Valnar grunted as he walked out of the campfire. He was overwhelmed with the need to pray. Again. To ask for Kiejain’s guidance, about how to help his prince, and what to do with a broken beast.
22
DIENUS
“I didn’t know he was stolen,” the young woman squealed desperately.
Her voice had started to annoy Dienus a while ago. She looked at them with those wide, brown eyes, feigning her innocence. She was quite talented in her acting; tears had started welling up in her eyes and her lips trembled. Even her face was pale. Her hands were tied in front of her and she kept picking on the skin around her nails.
They’d stopped under a tree, not far from where they’d found her. Lieutenant Quinner had instructed the men to take a quick break while they talked to their prisoner. Emberlash and Dienus’s two young squires were snacking on hard bread and listening to the conversation nearby. Sir Gennald was investigating the woman’s belongings.
Olira Aryanna had claimed she would collaborate and tell them everything, but ever since they’d started interrogating her, all she did was lie to their faces.
“He’s not just stolen,” Dienus sneered. “He’s stolen from the King of Chinderia.”
“I... I didn’t know that. I bought him from a trader in Kiore. I had no idea...”
“Didn’t you recognize the famous Lion of Zarall from his brands?” Lieutenant Quinner asked, as he stood next to
Dienus.
“No, I didn’t see them. And I didn’t know what they meant...”
Quinner screwed his eyes suspiciously. “You didn’t see them, or you didn’t recognize them? Which one?”
Olira hung her head, avoided eye contact. “I didn’t see them at first. And then when I had to treat his infection...”
“How come you didn’t see them at first?” Dienus interrupted. “Didn’t you examine him?”
“No, I...”
“Who buys a slave without examining them?”
“I was ...”
“And why would a farmer like you invest in a purebred beast anyway?” Dienus pressed on. The woman’s innocent claims infuriated him. Nobody could be this stupid.
But then, they were in Northern Chinderia.
“I... I didn’t have a choice,” Olira whimpered. “Master Gladwiel forced me...”
Dienus raised his eyebrows. “Someone forced you to purchase a purebred beast?”
“He owed me a hundred and fifty Blues. He wasn’t paying...”
“Your story doesn’t make sense. How could a slave trader owe a farmer a hundred and fifty Blues?”
Olira’s defences cracked for the first time; her jaws hardened with frustration. “I grow herbs,” she gritted her teeth impatiently “I sold him Pelleogano petals and Tiger Blossom to heal skin diseases. They’re so rare and only flower once a year...”
“Where is Lion of Zarall now, ma’am?” Lieutenant Quinner stepped in. “What have you done with him?”
“She sold him,” Sir Gennald spoke. He tossed a heavy purse at Quinner.
The lieutenant undid the leather strap and looked inside the purse. His eyebrows shot up.
“How much is in there?” Dienus asked the woman.
Olira hung her head again, her cheeks flushed. “Three hundred and fifty.”
Dienus whistled. “So, you didn’t know who he was, yet you knew how much to ask for him.”
It wasn’t really a question, and Olira chose not to comment.