Of Coups and Cauls

by Tyranni Thomas

  “Where… Goddess, where are your men?” Ki’Loke asked me in frantic Faust.

  “They are asleep…” I squinted at him, and for a moment, I almost gave a giggle at his excited state, but something in the man’s eyes made my stomach sink.

  The long, sun-bleached dreadlocks caught my eye as the majestic one turned to face us, locking his crystalline eyes on me.

  “He’s an assassin,” I whispered, suddenly realizing why the lengthy dreadlocks were significant. It also shed light on why we were using Faust to speak. Most tribes considered it a dweller tongue, beneath learning.

  “You are most brave, Goddess.” Ki’Loke smiled before waving his hand toward the stranger again. “This is Goddess Azaria of the Savagelands, daughter of the late Asena. Goddess, this is…”

  An uncomfortable quiet passed while Ki’Loke’s eyes snapped about.

  “There is no word for what I am called in your language, Goddess. Pariah will do,” the stranger offered.

  My brows lofted, and I forced a smile to climb over my features.

  “Pariah,” I repeated flatly.

  “Pariah… will be lending his men to your service,” Grimmik, quickly offered. His eyes were glistening with unspoken pleas.

  Was this what it had come to? Zaith’s Nest of Silence. I forced myself not to blink, but to stare him down as I would any other subject.

  After what seemed like an eternity, his hand roamed over a throatful of stubble, and he dropped his eyes to my boots.

  Even as I did so, I knew I was putting my own life on the line by demanding such respect of him. The Nest of Silence was where the most animalistic of warriors go. The ones who, from a young age, show a taste for blood and ambition. Such young men often grew into powerful leaders if left to their own devices. It was why Zaith tribes often exile them. Their leaders commanded it for their own safety. When it came to tribes that invited death into their daily lives, coups became so common, almost every generation had seen one. These young threats to the tent thrones were ostracized until they were seen as a threat to society itself.

  They were considered too skilled to challenge in combat, and thus the very reputation they were assigned afforded them enough fear to find some respect. Too, the dodging of attempted executions and assassinations on their own person often led them to be the deadliest amongst even the Zaith warriors.

  “He is an elephant whisperer, Goddess. We just received word that Octavius sent ten ships to our tribes in the west. Octavius purchased an elephant for each,” Ki’Loke explained.

  All eyes were on me, and everything in me trembled. Not with fear or apprehension, but with outright fury. He would try to use my own people’s war tactics against them?

  I snuffed a laugh before it left my lips. “He can bring all the Zaith elephants he wants. Mine are larger, and if he is coming here to get them, then he knows not how to command them,” I ground out.

  “He is a pretender,” Pariah, said. The Savage language spilled from his tongue with an exotic almost seductive flare, even when he spoke of strategy. “We will crush them. The essence of the Savageland Elephant will be on our side.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eryx

  Nightmares chased me from my sleep to a prone position before I even had enough wits about me to recall where we were. Which was alone. In a rock pile. And naked, for the most part. The sea of fornicators had gone to work or hunt hours ago. No doubt they were making jokes at our expense. Tauran may consider itself civilized and refined, but the tribal folk would never see them as anything but lazy and entitled.

  “Get up,” I hissed. My cheeks were aflame with embarrassment. To make matters worse, Azaria was gone. A quick intake told me her clothes were, too, which gave me some measure of comfort. If someone were to kidnap her, surely they wouldn’t have permitted her time to dress.

  Drayce began to worm around, groaning against the glare of the morning sun.

  “I’d pull the drapes, Your Grace, but…” I said.

  He glared at me for a minute before his face convulsed and laughter rumbled from that broad chest of his. “Did you just make a joke?” He chuckled in disbelief.

  My entire face fell. That’s what I got for trying to fit in and be chummy.

  The entire way back to her tent, I questioned my own sense of humor. Meanwhile, Drayce walked beside me grinning like a fool and cutting knowing glances.

  “You ought to partake more often. That Nirva—”

  “Never mind the root. Let’s just focus on finding her.” I sighed.

  Ahead of us, the curtain of a tent snapped open. With her chin held high, Azaria emerged. To her right, a tall man with long dark hair was nodding as she spoke. His hair was pulled into a tight mohawk that draped down his back. The parts that touched his skull however, were weaved about the ribs of some unfortunate.

  “I take it he’s the boss…” Drayce mumbled.

  “Hm? What gave it away? The part where he stands with the boldness of familiarity, or the fact that he’s decorated with pieces of a corpse and no one’s objecting?”

  His face fell in a way that silently labelled me a smart ass, and a sudden surge of happiness melted my mood.

  When Azaria drew closer, I could see the difference in her face. The determination was still in her eyes, but she now appeared confident and ready for whatever the Zaith Nation and life in general might throw at us.

  “It is settled,” she announced with a serene smile.

  “Wha…what exactly is settled, Your Majesty?” Drayce asked, earning him a narrowing of those dark sultry eyes.

  “It is Azaria to you. Our plan to take back the Savagelands. We will sail to the Lost Isle and collect what warriors we might.”

  “I remember as kids we used to frighten each other with tales of the ancient forest,” Drayce excitedly reminisced. “Tales of monsters that only lived in the deepest, darkest, shadows of the Barizon. Tales of birds with razors for claws and an uncanny ability to aim for a man’s eyes when pecking.”

  “Fire breathing elephants that were said to be taller than even the rainforest trees…” I contributed. “The good stories didn’t start until I was at university. That was when the stories of the Barizon beauties began.”

  She cut her eyes at me, and I realized that perhaps humor was not my strong suit after all. So, we strolled in a companionable silence that carried us back to our tent. Drayce held the door open for all of us. Once we were inside, however, Azaria abruptly turned to face us.

  Drayce hauled himself towards a chair that was capable of both folding closed or opening with an X style base. Both my brows rose as I waited for the pitiful thing to collapse.

  “What?” he mumbled. His attention was frozen on Azaria.

  The fierce eyes were none too amused. I could see her jaw twitch with irritation.

  “Grab your things! You can two can have tea later,” she huffed before rummaging through a trunk in the corner.

  “Now?” Drayce and I asked in unison.

  “Forgive me, my Sweet, you wish us to leave… presently?” I hesitantly asked. “I truly must council against rush. It would be wise to wait on the tribesmen to—”

  Before I could even finish, she stormed across the tent and threw the flap open. There was no formation, no three-deep order. People were moving like a stampede.

  “It is wise to move faster than the speed of lips…” she corrected.

  “What the fuck?” Drayce exclaimed, still taking in the procession and energy surrounding all of it. He tried to hurl himself out of the chair, but the ill-thought leverage he had trusted his palm to, had the chair collapsing once he lifted his ass. The wooden blocks that served as arm rests clapped around his upper forearm with a vengeance, and the big guy nearly took us all out with the outburst that followed.

  The man gave a piercing scream that made Azaria reach for her weapon. It didn’t help matters that once the thing snapped shut he flung his arm, sending the chair hurling towards us. It was a moment of total
panic and mass confusion. By the time it ended, a dozen wild-eyed warriors had flooded the tent and surrounded her.

  An impromptu debate erupted around us. Some labelled him a threat, an enemy, even more were wagering over his sanity.

  Alas, a young brave soul, not even chest high on a man, came forward. He looked at Drayce’s arm and the two faint lines the chair had left about his wrist. After a moment of gruffly examining the limb, the boy’s arms flew around as if he were angry, and he addressed the men in a broken attempt at the Zaith tongue. A thick wet sound enunciated his finale before he swatted the air in dismissal. The men around us roared with laughter, and one by one followed the boy from the tent.

  “What was so funny?” Drayce asked, staring after them. He was rubbing the pink lines like he might have broken something. In truth, they were much too faint to even leave a bruise.

  “The boy said you fuss about nothing. His mother smacks him harder than that to wake him up in the morning.”

  A blunt, humorous shriek sounded behind us. When we turned, Azaria’s hands were cupping her mouth. She tried to appear apologetic, but every time she removed her hand and looked toward Drayce another fit of giggles erupted.

  “It was a rather… maidenly scene,” she defended once she gave up trying to mask her amusement. She was still gasping for air and wiping her eyes when she slipped out into the crowd.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Drayce

  My journey to the Savagelands was spent below deck. Cradling a bucket and heaving manically. The current between Zaith and the Barizon was vile. The turbulence forced all but the experienced to take the wider arc to calmer seas. I expected my own soul to be relieved more times than I could count.

  “Drayce!” Azaria’s excitement channeled with my name.

  I didn’t want to move, I had just settled my stomach, but who could deny that voice. I took a deep breath and hefted myself up from the floor. The ship swayed, and I groaned closing my eyes.

  No! They said not to do that. Forcing them open, I swallowed the saliva pooling over my palate and clung to the rails. “I… can’t.” I mumbled, from behind the veil of my dark hair.

  “Well, you’re going to have to.” She smiled. “We are home.”

  “Home…” I repeated dumbly. Even in a confused state, I didn’t give a damn where we were. I just wanted to put my feet on dry land. I wanted to be able to breath without thoughts of swallowing half the sea should the boat go over.

  I scrambled up the stairs, only to nearly fall back down them when the sun smacked me full force. My arm crooked over my eyes, and I groaned, forcing myself to blink against the blinding brightness.

  Air was wrangled into my lungs so fast I nearly choked. I had never seen anything so beautiful. The water was crystal blue. I could see every dip and stone on the sea floor and pools of fish with vivid colors. The beach had no rock wall of natural defense. It was miles of wavy sand. Somehow beyond all that, an explosion of dark green took over. A rich, thick forest that seemed to stretch to the sky itself.

  “The Savagelands,” I whispered.

  “Home.” Azaria smiled.

  The water, deep as it might have been, gave the illusion of safety. The clarity of it was almost breathtaking, each wave seemed to coat the sand in a rush of tropical baby blue. Boats dropped by the dozens. Awilda, Kais, Ryett, and Pariah’s armies anchored their ships. There was no backing out now. We were all Savages. We would fight alongside these infamous warriors, and we would either win as their brothers or die alongside them.

  I felt more connected to her in that moment than perhaps I ever had. We were rowing to war, and this beautiful Goddess was smiling and poised as if it were another lap around the pond. For the love of the Seers, she was enjoying this.

  “You know there will be bodies, right? Men will die?” I didn’t care if the warriors rowing looked at me funny. Someone had to be the sensible one.

  Her brows jumped with silent acknowledgement. “It has been known since we left Tauran that there would be battle.” She canted her head, and I could feel her searching me.

  “You should be on the ship—” I began, but her face fell into a mask of discontent.

  “I… there is no going back, Azaria… if we lose …” I tried, again.

  “Drayce.” She smiled patiently. “Stop speaking. If you wish to go back to the boat with the wives, you may do so.”

  I couldn’t have replied if I wanted to. She snatched the words and dignity from me without bothering to break her gaze. She didn’t have to slap me or make a scene as Narelle would have, Azaria went for the jugular with grace.

  The boat skidded up onto the sand, and I finally forced myself to look away.

  “Never suggest that I am only a woman in front of my troops again,” she whispered.

  When I looked into her eyes, she was furious. Hurt, but furious. She walked away, leaving me to gather myself and extract a few moments of mercy laying in the sand.

  “We must be careful,” Eryx said in a low tone, holding his hand down toward me. “She must be the Sovereign…the Goddess. It is natural to want to protect her, but here… to do so is a sign she is too weak to defend herself. If she cannot defend herself, how can she protect a nation?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ryett

  Even from a distance, I could feel the discontent rolling off the tiny group. Azaria looked none too pleased as she left Eryx and the big guy. When she began to march my way, I realized she wasn’t wearing the men’s breeches. She wasn’t wearing anything but the military leather kilt and armor. I tried to catch her in my arms, but her elbow found my ribs.

  “Fucking Seers…” I squealed.

  “We came to war, Delucre. There will be time for frolicking in the sand later,” Azaria lulled. Even though her elbow had been gruff, her smile was playful.

  “Wrong Delucre,” Kais grumbled brushing past us, not stopping.

  Her head snapped up, and I watched as her dark deadly glare followed him into the crowd ahead.

  “He is sore because we are not getting Ryver first,” I offered lamely. I didn’t know what the fuck his problem was, but I really didn’t care. I wanted her to myself. It felt like an eternity since I had tasted her lips, but whatever Kais said held her in a storm of emotions.

  “Does the Tuaranian army flog it’s commanders as well as the soldiers?” she asked.

  I couldn’t help it; I snorted and nudged her back. Only when she stumbled to the side did she finally shake her head and laugh.

  “You know he loves you both, right? I don’t mean love like he has a care—that man is in love with you and my brother both,” I told her.

  She said nothing, though the anger in her eyes dissipated a bit.

  “He was so crushed when he thought he had lost in the arena,” I recollected.

  “I told him to keep his ass out of that arena!” she accused.

  “Well, you see. There is the occasional favorable outcome when he gets hot headed and doesn’t follow orders.”

  Her chest rose and fell dramatically. “Well, Fuck. I guess we better not tar and feather him just yet then.”

  ***

  We walked the better part of ten miles before the sand abruptly ended. A bit of a thicket lay before us, but beyond it another few miles were the tallest trees I had ever laid eyes on. They almost seemed to be holding up the sky. Inside, I could hear the stuttered scream of monkeys. It sounded like they were passing messages across the rainforest.

  By then it was dark, but the moon was full and quite luminous with all the water to reflect off. No wonder it was called the territorial coast. Surely it must have touched several countries. I held no doubt that the people were forced to learn the arts of war once they chose to settle their tribes in such a place.

  Azaria and Awilda led the way into the forest. Rather than set up camp just within, we walked for another three miles. Only then did the warriors begin to look up into the trees with more than a glance for safety. In pairs of two,
they started to score the branches. If I climbed that high, I would fall to my death. Even seeing another living, breathing human being that far off the ground made me nauseous.

  “Right, then.” Eryx smiled, waving his hand toward the tree next to us.

  My mouth floundered, and I blinked, unable to speak for a good long while. He was my climbing partner?

  “Surely, there is another way…” I snapped around like I expected to be confronted but instead, I found only Azaria’s amused smirk.

  “You can’t sleep on the ground. There are many animals you are unfamiliar with. Those that slither and those that have teeth made to rip and shear.”

  Her advice left me scanning the ground thoroughly. I could feel my breath quickening and my stomach flopping. There was no way I was getting in that damn tree, but I didn’t know how to refuse without appearing to be a coward.

  “You must go up or come with us. The choice is yours, my King.” Had she ever addressed me by title before? If she had, it wasn’t with one so majestic, or maybe it was just the way the word spilled from her lips.

  “After you,” I readily agreed.

  ***

  Wind blew my tight curls around, just enough so I could feel them teasing atop my head. It wasn’t really the curls that seemed peculiar, though—it was the warmth of the breeze. It rustled the foliage around us, teasing the limbs until they swayed ever so subtly. Ahead of me, Azaria’s ass was doing the same thing in that little skirt of hers. I couldn’t really see anything, but when she moved, one saw enough of her thigh to allow form a good mental image.

  We came to a ridge of piled stones. It was taller than two men stacked. Before I could ask her plan, she dug her fingertips into the rock and began to lift her leg. That was when I noticed that I wasn’t the only one appreciating her backside. Pariah, the dreadlocked God, had his eye on the prize and a predatory smile spread across his mouth.