by James Fuller
Zehava nodded. “I had not considered that, but you are likely correct.” Zehava looked around and quickly spotted what he was looking for. “If we travel east, we will find the river again.”
“How do you know which way is east?” Nicolette asked, confused. “We have been traveling in different directions for days now, how could you possibly know that?”
Zehava smiled at her, but was surprised she did not know the trick. “The moss on those rocks always grows on the east side - always away from the heat of the sun.”
They made a litter for Dahak and Zehava held onto the handles as he pulled it behind him, laboring through the defiant terrain. The traveling was slow and far noisier than they wanted, but there was no other way. The flattened, broken trail they left behind would be easy to follow by anyone with half the sense, but again it was something they had to accept. They tried for the easiest path through the thick growth, trying not to jolt Dahak’s poor body around and tear open his stitches again, but an easy path within the jungle was a fable.
Zehava followed behind Shania and Nicolette, his pace beginning to slow as his muscles screamed at him in protest. His hands and wrists were cramping from their tight grip on the litter poles as he struggled to drag the heavy load. The sweat no longer stung with its salty bite as it dripped down into his eyes and he knew that was a bad sign. His breathing was ragged and labored as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, but still he pushed himself forward, one unsteady foot in front of the other. His friend needed him now more than ever before and he would not fail.
Finally, Shania stopped them all in a small clearing, after spotting a pair of small fruit trees bearing several ripened fruits that had not yet been destroyed by the creatures of the jungle. They had passed many such trees, but all of them had been emptied or their fruit discarded by the trees themselves as the rainy season neared. As tempted as she had been, she knew the dangers of eating fruit that had rested on the earth for long - parasites and sickness would riddle the fruit.
They ate the over-ripe fruits greedily, ignoring the sour, fermented taste. Shania mashed one of the fruits in her hands, making sure the insides within the thick peel were near liquid before cutting a small opening and carefully pouring its contains down Dahak’s throat. The small opening above them showed them of the coming afternoon rains, which would make travel and comfort nearly unbearable.
“We should get moving again, before the rain comes.” Zehava said as he stood, though his body protested the act.
“Let me look at hands.” Shania came over and Zehava tried to hide them, but she accepted no resistance and grabbed them both. They were badly blistered - most of the blisters had broken open and were bleeding. “Why you not tell me?”
“It is nothing. I will be fine; we have more important things to worry about than my hands.” Zehava replied sheepishly.
“Nothing?” Shania asked bitterly, “Okay then, this no hurt?” She pushed her thumb down into one of the open sores, causing Zehava to cry out and flinch away. “Guess it is something after all.” She walked back to Dahak’s litter, grabbing some of the linen she had used to wrap his wound so she could wrap Zehava’s hands, the whole while muttering about how stupid males were.
Nicolette looked at him empathically; she knew why he had not said anything. The pain of his hands dulled the agony of his emotions and fueled his steps, allowing him to go this far.
The rain had begun not long after they had started on again - when it had started it had been forceful, the clouds trying to release their sodden load quickly. But now the downpour had slowed to a mere reminder and a metaphor of all their moods.
They trudged along slowly, Shania being sure to stop every so often to inspect Zehava’s hands to make sure they were not getting worse. Soon, they could hear the sound of the river - it lifted their spirits and their steps quickened. By the time they reached the river’s edge, the sun had begun its slow decent behind the light grey cloud. It would soon be dark and if they were lucky, the rain would let up for the night.
“I remember being able to see that rocky crest from where we camped. We are not far.” Zehava explained, pointing south to the rocky hillside which was barely visible above the imposing tree line.
Nicolette looked around nervously, her hand touching the hilt of her sword. “We should hurry; I do not like being in the open like this.”
Their camp was practically untouched. The four men they had killed when they had been attacked still littered the ground. Fat carrion birds sluggishly took flight as the newcomers invaded their feast.
Zehava wasted no time in retrieving his fallen sword and fitting it back into place on his hip. He felt instantly better, the weight reassuring.
Shania quickly went through their things and retrieved the herbs she needed. She went to work, preparing them for Dahak’s wound and for his consumption.
Zehava scanned the darkening tree line, flashes of that night coming back to him, praying on his nerves. “We should not stay here again.”
“Why?” Shania asked as she applied a creamy paste to Dahak’s wound. “They no think to come back here to find us.”
“I just have an eerie feeling about being here again.”
“So you should.” A deep voice said as several figures melted out from the shadows of the trees, blades drawn and ready.
Zehava’s sword rang free of its scabbard; he set himself in front of Shania and Dahak, fighting the agony caused by his grip on the handle of the blade.
“Just calm yourself - no one has to die tonight.” The leader said as the man behind him set flame to a torch to provide better light. “You just put that bow down, girly,” he growled as Nicolette fumbled with an arrow and another figured came out of the trees, a bow extended back, arrow notched and aimed for her chest.
Nicolette looked to Zehava and he nodded for her to drop the bow. He knew they would not win a fight; they could not, not in their condition, not with Dahak near death. He would risk his own life with such foolishness but not Nicolette’s - not his Queen’s.
“What do you want from us?” Zehava asked, trying to keep echo of defeat from his tone.
“Your friend’s not looking to good,” Lance replied, ignoring Zehava, “might even die in that condition without help.” He grinned. “I can give him the help he needs to live.”
“How?” Shania piped in, standing up beside Zehava, her tone fearful yet hopeful.
Lance grinned again. “My wizard Elsrath is back at my camp - he could heal your friend right up…” he paused. “Might be his only hope of survival at this point.”
“Why should we trust you?” Zehava shot back.
“Because you only have two options, we kill you all right now, or you surrender and your friends and you get a chance to live a little while longer. Now I grow tired of this horseshit - Mitch if this fool does not drop his sword by the time I count to three…kill the girl.”
Zehava heard the bowstring tighten once more - his mouth went dry as he looked to Nicolette and saw the fear in her eyes. He had no choice now. His sword hit the damp earth with a thud and he stepped back. Shania glanced up at him, her eyes furious at first, but softening with understanding within a moment as she too released her blades.
“Much better.” Lance sneered. “Bind them up, and make sure it is tight.”
Chapter 2
Valka walked a slow, watchful circle around the young, naked priestess before her. The girl was nearing her fifteenth year, her lithe body beginning to come into womanhood. Her tiny, girlish frame was filling out with the full, seductive curves of a very attractive and alluring woman. Valka wondered how she had not noticed the girl beforehand, but then again, her eyes had seldom ever wandered from her former lover, Meeka, until now.
Valka’s finger tips gently touched the silken, soft flesh of the girl’s back. She could feel the girl quiver and this only encouraged her building arousal. She ran her fingertips across the girl’s back, up over her shoulder and slowly across her delicate
collarbone, up to her slender neck. She could feel the girl’s pulse quickening as she tried to maintain steady control of her breathing.
“Look at me,” Valka cooed, her finger guiding the girl’s gaze upwards to look into her own sharp, green eyes. “That is better,” she smiled, seeing the fear in the girl’s hazel eyes. The first few times they were always afraid, always worried about displeasing her. “You need not fear me, my sweet.” Valka leaned in and pressed her lips gently against the girl’s, her tongue slowly parting her lips and entangling itself with the awkward movements of the inexperienced. She would get better; they always did when they learned to let their lust and passion take over.
Valka’s hand cupped around the girl’s head and her kiss deepened as she pulled her closer, savoring the warmth of the girl’s nakedness against her. Valka’s free hand began to wander down, exploring undiscovered flesh of the innocent…when she heard a grunt from behind her. She let go of the girl and spun around viciously, her gaze falling on the massive form of one of her generals, blocking the tent entrance.
“What do you want?” Valka hissed, barely containing her rage at her lustful needs being interrupted.
“My apologies, High Priestess, I bring news…” he faltered, his eyes shifting to the young priestess in the room. “…of a sensitive nature.”
Valka’s eyes burned with fury; she inhaled deeply to calm herself from acting on her more primal instincts. “Tara, leave us. I will call on you later.”
“As you wish, High Priestess,” Tara replied, gathering her things and slipping out into the night.
“This had better be worth disrupting my desires,” Valka growled as she began to pour herself a goblet of blood-wine. “Now speak!”
“I found the bodies of three more priests… dead within their tent.” The General told her quickly, knowing she was going to be furious.
She stopped pouring the crimson wine and returned the horn-carved bottle back to its place on the table, before lifting the potent liquor to her full lips and drinking deeply. The deep flavor of the blood wine filled her senses. Flashes of the enemy whose blood had been drained to help make the powerful vintage calmed her, but only slightly. “What part of camp?”
“The north side, High Priestess.”
Valka swallowed the last of the wine. “How did they die?”
The General swallowed hard. “All had their throats cut in their sleep, like most of the others.”
“What makes you think there was others?” Valka asked, her eyes staring intently into his.
“I… well I… there are rumors going around the camp of other such deaths,” He stuttered out, his nervousness evident. “Several of the warriors have noticed the disappearance of several priests and priestesses.”
“That is a shame that such things are being whispered.” Valka replied with deadly calm. “Such things invoke low morale.”
“I could not agree more, High Priestess. It is why I came straight to you with the news.”
“You told no one?” Valka asked coolly.
“I swear it on my life.”
“So be it,” She hissed, closing the gap between them, slamming a wickedly twisted dagger under his ribcage and up into his heart.
A slight gasp left his mouth - his eyes stared at her in horror and yet, there was mute understanding. He fell to his knees, his body trembling as the hands of death grabbed at him from the afterlife, but still he stared up at her, waiting for something more before he allowed himself to slip away.
“You died to protect a secret - to win a great war for our people. Your death was not in vain, I promise you that, great warrior. Now go, dine with your fallen brethren,” Valka whispered, twisting the dagger and stopping his heart.
“If you keep killing all your warriors every time they bring you bad news, we are never going to win this war, Valka,” Vashina said mockingly, standing in front of the tent’s opening. The look she received informed her she had caught the High Priestess unaware and she relished the rare moment.
Valka bit back an angry retort but quickly regained her composure - she answered to no one, except the Goddess. “What do you want, Vashina?” She pulled her dagger from the dead warrior’s body and it crumpled to the ground.
“I doubt my news is nearly as interesting as yours, but I guess I will go first,” She grinned mockingly. “The fires are beginning to die down. I give it another day or so before they burnout, but they will smolder and smoke for a few days after.”
“Information I was already well aware of,” Valka snipped back.
“The warriors grow restless and need a fight before the tribes begin to remember old grudges and fight amongst one another. On my way here, I broke up two such scuffles before blood was drawn.”
Valka lowered her palms to the earth and summoned her innate Gift. Living vines crawled from the hard-packed ground and entangled the warrior’s corpse, pulling it deep into the earth until there was nothing left but a mound of stirred up dirt. “Soon it will be time to end this siege and take Dragon’s Cove. We have twice the warriors now and supplies finally have begun to arrive. Though I have to wonder if anyone will be alive in there, once the smoke stops. They will have their fight soon enough,” Valka commented, pleased that no trace remained of the General. She looked hard at Vashina, her eyes cold as ice. “We do as we must to keep certain facts under control, Vashina - you more than most should know this. If our warriors learn that our Priests and Priestesses are being killed so easily by someone, it would spook them and they might not feel so confident. Some might begin to flee back to the wastelands.” She watched Vashina’s eyes, looking for any hint of betrayal in her reactions. “We need to put an end to this rogue assassin.”
“He is an arrogant, yet a skilled one - to walk into the middle of our camp, kill our Gifted in their sleep and make it out again without anyone noticing,” Vashina said, barely containing the smirk as she remembered her own run in with Pavilion.
“I am leaving that up to you to deal with, since I was informed you two already had a run in with one another and yet you both survived… a pity,” Valka said, her tone taunting.. “Be useful and bring me his head… if you can that is. Worst off, one of you is dead and out of my way.”
It was Vashina’s turn to bite back an angry retort. “I guess since no one else stands a chance against him, I will have to see to his removal….” she replied coolly. “…before we find your lifeless body, by his blade,” she finished, with a tip of venom to her words. “We would not want that now, would we?”
Valka glared hard at her. “You have yet to prove your worth in this war, Vashina - try and change that before he gets here.”
Vashina glared hard at the High Priestess, wanting to engulf the wretch in flames, but she was not foolish enough to let her pride blind her. She knew better than to underestimate one such as Valka.
“Why are you still here, Vashina? I gave you a job to do!” Valka barked, seeing Vashina still at the opening of the tent.
*****
Pavilion crouched in the dark shadows of two large hide tents; he waited patiently for a group of armed warriors to pass by before he slipped out and continued on his search. He had already visited one tent with two sleeping Priestess’s this night and had ended their desolate lives, but he wanted to find at least one more such tent. Word was spreading through the encampment of an assassin who was hunting them, and even now it was becoming harder to find them. No longer did they flaunt their decorative fetishes of bones and other such trophies outside their tents to signify their status. Now most were in hiding, making his job much more dangerous than it already was, but he was no stranger to that. He almost enjoyed the challenge.
Pavilion knew he risked it all in his movements through the camp, yet he felt confident beneath the matted barbarian’s cloak he had taken - many times he walked right past warriors and was given no more than a side glance or grunt. None of them would expect an enemy to be this close, within their midst. He was sure the murders of their
Gifted were being kept as silent as they could be; something like that would cause panic and unease within an army this big. Nothing destroyed an army quicker than doubt and low morale.
Pavilion stopped in his tracks and regarded the near-naked girl that ran from one of the tents. It was not the girl that had caught his attention, but the woman standing in the opening. That superior, calm, indolent stance he would remember anywhere…Vashina. He moved closer, careful to remain unnoticed. He did not think her one to make idle chat with someone of no importance. He caught a glimpse between the curve of Vashina’s body and the tent post of who was within… the High Priestess! He grinned - tonight he would cut the head off the snake.
He watched Vashina turn away from the tent, her eyes filled with livid, barely contained rage. He smiled again, wondering if he was the cause of that rage. His smile quickly faded as he realized she was heading straight for him. He slipped to the side of tents, hoping she would not notice him any more than she had any other of the warriors she stalked by. As she neared him, her gaze lifted irritably by chance and their eyes locked and she stopped dead in her tracks. For a moment that seemed much longer than it was, they just stared at each other with an unspoken respect.
“Just who I was looking for.” Vashina whispered, loud enough for him to hear.
Pavilion smiled nervously. “I sensed you wanted to see me and I do ever aim to please.” He said coyly, though he realized the immense danger he was in.
“Very bold, Pavilion, walking into the hornets’ nest, something I myself would have most likely done.” She said, a hint of respect in her voice.
“As it happens, it is not as hard or as dangerous as one may think.” He replied smugly, his mind racing as he tried to recall the fastest way out of the camp.
“Maybe,” She smiled at him devilishly, “Care to find out?”
“Not really.” He answered her honestly.
“Not up for a challenge?” Vashina replied with a cocked brow. “A shame - I thought you more interesting than that…How I hate being wrong.” She finished a lot louder, drawing the attention of many warriors nearby.