by Liam Reese
“Do a good job and this is yours,” he said, smiling when the young man snatched the coin from his fingers.
“Oh, I will, Sir,” the stable hand said. “I shall look after these horses like they was my own.”
Both Besmir and his wife smiled when the lad bowed to them. Arteera gripped his hand tightly as the youth disappeared inside to scrub, feed and water their horses. The couple stayed there for a while, both lost in their own memories as the rest of the party brought their horses in.
Ru Tarn had stayed in better places during her life. She had also stayed in far worse. The tavern was clean at least, the Corbondrasi noted as she changed from her traveling clothes into a dress that displayed her plumage more fully. She carefully applied the near priceless oils that kept her feathers in immaculate condition before arranging the soft down around her eyes to her utter satisfaction. Qi Noss knocked on the door.
“Shall I escort you down, my lady?” he asked through the wood.
“No, thank you, Qi Noss, I will make my way down...ah!”
Ru Tarn’s words were cut short by a stabbing pain in the lower part of her abdomen. She bent forward, her breath caught as an agonizing wave of nauseating pain ripped through her.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. “This cannot be happening now.”
“Ru Tarn?” Qi Noss said in a worried voice from outside. “Are you well?”
“I am fine,” she managed. “I will be down soon.”
Ru Tarn waited as the agony slowly dissipated from her lower belly. This was not right. Her time was four months hence.
I should not be producing an egg now!
The tavern’s main room was bustling with people when she walked down the stairs. A few heads turned as she entered, mainly locals or those who were not of her party. She saw the dark green feathers of Qi Noss who was having a conversation with the massive leader of the White Blades, Norvasil, but was not looking for his company. Her lavender eyes grazed over the crowd sitting at simple wooden tables as they ate and drank. At the farthest end, nestled in a corner she saw the table she had been searching for and started in their direction.
“May Ru Tarn join you?” she asked, approaching the table.
Zaynorth and Herofic both looked up in surprise, the Corbondrasi ambassador had never paid either of them much attention in the past.
“Of course, my lady,” Herofic said as they both stood.
Herofic glanced at his brother in confusion as he helped seat the Corbondrasi but Zaynorth shrugged.
“Will you be dining this evening?” Zaynorth asked.
“Ru Tarn is hungry,” she said. “What should she have?”
The Corbondrasi ambassador gave Herofic a coy smile, blinking her lavender eyes several times.
“Well, that depends on your tastes...” Zaynorth said at a loss. “Do you like meat?”
“Meat is acceptable to Ru Tarn,” she said. “What is this meat?” she pointed to Herofic’s plate.
“This is beef, ambassador,” he said. “Would you like so...”
His words trailed off as she dipped her feathered fingers into his dinner and took a slice of the roasted leg. She tilted her head back and dropped the thing into her mouth whole, gravy dripping down her chin and from her fingers as she looked at them again.
“Tasty,” she said. “Ru Tarn wants wine now,” she added.
“Ambassador, are you feeling quite well?” Zaynorth asked as he passed a pewter goblet to her. The Corbondrasi lifted the wine that sat chilling on the table and lifted it to her mouth, drinking straight from the bottle.
“Ru Tarn fine,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and belching softly.
The Corbondrasi ambassador leaned back in her chair, studying the pair of older men as they spoke about Besmir in low tones.
“There will be a reckoning when we find this Porantillia,” Herofic said darkly. “Taking Joranas has all but broken him,” he added, nodding at the king.
Zaynorth nodded as he chewed thoughtfully at a chunk of meat in gravy.
“It’s certainly a blow to him. Arteera as well,” the illusion mage said. “I miss the lad, too.” His voice went hoarse as he spoke.
Ru Tarn watched the interaction with interest. Both men came across as fiercely loyal to their king as well as one being a capable warrior while the other a mage of some esteem. Ru Tarn drained the wine bottle, beginning to feel the first effects warming her insides. She casually dipped her fingers into Herofic’s meal once more, taking a second slice of meat and virtually swallowing it whole.
Ru Tarn’s rational mind was screaming at her to stop. To show some decorum and leave, go through the biological process of oviparity in private. Her biological imperative, however, had other ideas and Ru Tarn wanted nothing more than to mate. She had no idea why her annual egg was coming so early and had no time to prepare the solutions her people had discovered years ago to ease the symptoms and get through the experience.
“Herofic has big muscles,” she said abruptly.
The brothers stared at her in surprise as her tone had been similar to that used by someone appraising livestock.
The Corbondrasi reached out and stroked her feathered hand down his shoulder and arm.
“Strong. Male,” she purred, fluttering the delicate feathers that lined her eyelids.
Herofic swallowed, smiling at her awkwardly before shifting his chair a little and continuing his whispered conference with Zaynorth.
“I just wish there was something I could do for the lad,” Herofic said as they watched Besmir lead Arteera from the room.
Zaynorth nodded.
“I know, Herofic, I know,” he said. “I even considered attempting to persuade them,” he admitted. “But it would not have helped us to get Joranas back.” He turned to Ru Tarn. “What are we likely to face in Boranash?” he asked.
“Boranash beautiful but harsh. Hot sand blows in air and many people live around coastline. One river flows down from mountains, feeding land around capital city but rest of Boranash is desert,” she said. “Is there more wine for Ru Tarn?”
Zaynorth ordered another flagon of wine and looked at the Corbondrasi who was almost casually stroking his brother with her plumage. Herofic looked distinctly awkward making Zaynorth grin at his discomfort.
“I rather meant what are these shamen like? Are we likely to face opposition in seeking their aid?”
Ru Tarn snorted rudely, her face twisting into a mask of derision.
“Secretive and exclusive,” she grunted. “Shamen are thinking they better than other Corbondrasi, blessed by Mwondi so better. Ru Tarn is thinking this is only way Besmir can get Joranas back though,” she added.
The Corbondrasi ambassador sighed and leaned heavily against Herofic, pushing her obviously feminine body against him as she wrapped herself around his arm, humming contentedly deep in her throat.
Zaynorth smirked as he rose, pushing his hands into the base of his spine and groaning at the ache.
“I might turn in for the night,” he said. “This return to traveling has taken its toll and my old bones are in need of a comfortable bed.”
“Will you not stay for another drink, brother?” Herofic asked with a worried glance at Ru Tarn.
Zaynorth feigned a yawn, stretching expansively as he grinned at Herofic, unseen by the Corbondrasi ambassador.
“No, brother, I really should get some sleep in preparation for our ride tomorrow. Good evening, Madam ambassador,” he said to Ru Tarn, nodding his head in a bow.
“Ru Tarn bids you farewell,” she said, scouring Herofic’s body with her lavender eyes.
Herofic made a rude gesture at his brother as he left. Zaynorth made his way between the chairs and tables, chuckling to himself as he did so.
Herofic coughed nervously and shifted to extricate himself from her feathered embrace.
“I, uh, I should turn in as well,” Herofic mumbled. “All this traveling has taken a toll on my old bones.”
�
�Ru Tarn coming with Herofic,” the Corbondrasi purred in a deep voice.
“I can see you to your room,” Herofic said in a gentlemanly fashion, “then I’ll bid you goodnight.”
Ru Tarn grunted an almost hostile chirp and released Herofic’s arm. She stood on unsteady feet and made her way through the tables and patrons, ignoring Herofic entirely.
Chapter Seven
Joranas could not understand how somewhere that was as hot as a flame during the day could be this cold at night. Pinpoints of light twinkled in the dark blue velvet sky as a dark shape flickered around, emitting a high-pitched squeal. Joranas watched the alien-looking thing as it swooped and dove, soon joined by another of its kind.
A low chill that was nothing to do with the temperature drained Joranas of courage as he stood there and he ducked back into the relative safety of the cave before either of the black, fluttering things could attack him.
Joranas hugged his knees and rocked slightly as he thought about his mother. Would she be worried about him? Was she looking for him even now?
I just want to go home.
A solitary tear rolled down Joranas’ face before he lay back down, pulling the soft material over him. Almost instantly he felt his own warmth reflected back into him and thanked the Gods for Whint’s having found this material. Drowsiness came with the warmth and he soon fell asleep once more.
Burning sun woke Joranas, somehow managing to penetrate the cave and slash at his eyes. He rolled but could not manage to get comfortable again. Sighing he rose and blinked several times, squinting against the brightness.
“We have to go,” Whint said.
“What? Where?” Joranas asked in surprise.
“This way,” Whint said vaguely, pointing towards the rising sun.
“We can’t...I mean it’s far too hot, the sun’s going to cook us alive,” Joranas said as panic gripped his guts.
“We have to go,” Whint repeated before striding from the cave and out into the morning light.
Joranas was torn between fear of being left here alone and his fear of venturing out into the sun. He had not forgotten the midnight creatures that had been flickering around last night either, the last thing he wanted was to encounter one of them in the light. He stepped toward the cave mouth, staring after Whint who was purposefully striding across the cracked, broken earth.
Without water, supplies, we’re doomed.
Joranas looked back at the little cave, grabbed the few plant stems that remained and set off after Whint.
His tongue felt too large. Joranas tried to move it inside his mouth but there was simply no way to make it fit. His limbs ached as if he had been beaten and something was trying to punch its way from inside his head. His eyes burned and felt as if they had filled with grit every time he blinked.
This is madness. I am going to die.
Joranas found he no longer cared. Vast, empty and barren, the landscape stretched off in all directions with nothing to be seen. Heat shimmers made it appear as if waves rolled in from some vast sea, spurring him on for a few seconds before his brain caught up with reality and misery came crashing down on him again.
Somehow Whint had found what looked to be an ancient road buried in the blowing sands. Joranas strayed off the edge frequently, stumbling and falling, his mouth filling with baked soil and sand. Not even knowing what drove him on anymore, Joranas crawled back up to the better footing and dragged himself up to his feet.
Noon sun beat down on his young head and shoulders like a physical blow, the heat becoming intolerable and in a state of delirium he collapsed to his knees before falling forward. Hot air caressed his back as he lay dying on the uncaring ground, the scouring kiss of desert air felt almost like the gentle touch of his mother stroking his back as she crooned some lullaby.
He became vaguely aware the world was bouncing around him. His arms and legs jerked loosely as he moved but there was no real understanding of why until he woke for a few seconds.
His eyes stared down at a pair of feet and legs that pounded along the dry roadway, tirelessly. The cracked ground he could see trailing off behind them took no footprints and gave no sign they had ever been there. Large muscles twitched and writhed beneath dark brown skin burned even darker by the kiss of the sun as Whint carried Joranas through the desert.
Eventually Joranas woke at a point where the world was still again and his eyes opened on a place that was so alien and so familiar at the same time he could barely believe it. Massive buildings stretched up into the sky around him. Impossibly tall towers that appeared to reach into the very sky were interspersed with smaller buildings that could have been shops or houses at one point. He was in a city, but a city like none he had seen before with incredibly huge architecture carved from gigantic blocks of stone his young mind refused to believe people could move.
It was also completely abandoned.
As Joranas looked around in surprised wonder at the place he realized there was no one else here. None of the sounds or smells he knew from home were present and his despair returned in a heartbeat. Furthermore he could see nothing made from wood or fabric. None of the buildings had doors attached but he could see where hinges had been attached to them.
How many years ago?
With no energy to move after his long day in the desert Joranas had to content himself with just looking around. He sat in the shadow of a tower but one that defied any of the building techniques he had seen from Morantine. The towers there were circular with wide bases that narrowed toward the top. Opposite him now was a square building that rose further than he could comprehend, its head lost to his vision. Dark circles punctuated its sides and Joranas realized they were windows, allowing light inside the construct. Even when he squinted he was unable to see the top of the thing and his mind shied away from what it might be like at the top as he wondered how the thing even remained standing.
A sound drew his attention and Joranas turned to see Whint rounding a corner, apparently unaffected by the heat. His dark brown skin gleamed in the late afternoon light, making it appear as if he glowed with some inner light. Joranas watched as the strange man laid an unfamiliar animal near him and proceeded to butcher it with a sharp piece of stone. Once he had cleaned and skinned it, he went into one of the buildings next to the one Joranas lay against and did not return for some time. When he did his hands were filled with cooked strips of meat that he held before Joranas’ face. The enticing aroma of cooked meat filled the young boy’s nostrils and saliva flooded his mouth. He reached out and took the meat, watching as Whint smiled his wide, easy smile.
“How did you know about this place, Whint?” Joranas asked as he wiped grease from his chin.
“I do not know,” the big man said screwing his face up. “I get...things sometimes,” he tried to explain, “in here.” He tapped on his skull. “But I do not know where it comes from.”
Joranas looked at the big man with sympathy. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there but not to know who he was or where he had come from must be horrible.
“Can’t you remember anything?” he asked.
Whint stared at him for a long time, his eyes searching Joranas’ face for answers.
“I remember being in a gray place,” he said. “Empty. Then I met Joranas...the other Joranas...and broke his house. I went through the portal and arrived here,” he beamed, his eyes twinkling with childish mirth. “You were in the cave and I knew I had to look after you. That is what I remember.”
Joranas shook his head, recalling his previous thought that Whint had gone insane due to the heat of the sun. His father had told him a story once about a man who, kicked in the head by a horse, had forgotten who he was, his family, friends and whole life. Joranas wondered if that had happened to Whint too as he had not known his own name either.
Something screamed in the distance and Whint turned towards the sound, his face intent.
“Darkness is coming,” he said. “We should go inside.”
Without another word he lifted Joranas and carried him into the building he had used to cook the food in. Joranas’ eyes picked out a deep trough filled with coals that glowed a dull red, remnants of the creature sizzled atop the metal mesh that sat over the flame and Joranas understood this was a cooking device of some kind. He also saw a raised block of stone with two stone benches down either side before Whint carried him through to another room. The large man laid him down on a stone platform he assumed to be a bed, covering him with more of the downy material he had found from somewhere. Whint turned to leave but Joranas stopped him.
“Whint?” the big man turned. “Thank you,” he said.
Whint beamed his toothy smile again.
Besmir’s company worked its way northwards through plains that became more arid and brown the farther they went. Rocky patches began to show through the dry soil and Besmir had difficulty believing it to be the same country. Temperatures rose during the day meaning they had to pause frequently to water their horses and by the time they reached the border town of Tinres they had all had enough of being in the saddle.
“Are we to remain anonymous here?” Zaynorth asked as he drew alongside Besmir when the gray walls hove into view.
Besmir looked at the garrison town, wondering what reception he might receive as king compared to that of a commoner. He could certainly make use of the facilities at the fortress and have a good meal, sleep in a bed and have a little luxury. He grinned.
“Something funny?” Arteera asked.
“Not really,” Besmir said. “I was just thinking how nice it’d be to sleep in a bed. Ten years living as a king has made me weak and soft,” he said. “Remember when all we had were a few tents and an ice cold river to bathe in?”
Arteera smiled recalling simpler times when she had first met Besmir and fallen for the eager young man who had promised to change the world for the better.
And he did. He did change it for the better, for a while at least.