The Kuscan Demon

by Sam Ferguson

  Since then, no army had ever attempted to take Turykon.

  Torgath smiled as he watched a pair of Sidhureen warriors patrol the wall in their brown and crimson capes. A part of him envied them, and another part wished he had the time to test his own skills against some of their kind.

  The trio reached the city gates and Torgath sent Kiuwa with a purse of gold to buy their entry.

  A crimson-caped captain shoved the coin purse back to Kiuwa and walked up to Torgath, obviously having recognized that the orc was in charge.

  Torgath eyed the soldier warily, knowing all the while that Tui and Kiuwa were preparing for another fight. The captain’s helmet bore a plume of dyed horse hair that matched his cape. His trousers were the color of the sand and his armor gleamed in the sunlight with each step. A pair of jagged, purple scars marred the visible part of the captain’s face, but his eyes held in them a presence and vigor Torgath could almost feel. The captain’s confident walk, and the fact that none of the other guards seemed terribly alarmed that their commander was approaching the trio alone told the orc everything else he needed to know. This was no nobleman’s son who had bought his rank with gold. This was a true warrior who paid in blood and nightmares.

  This was a human Torgath could already lend a significant portion of respect. The fact that he refused the bribe underlined that as well.

  “State your business, your names, and your allegiance,” the captain said.

  Torgath nodded and dismounted from his horse so he could stand eye to eye with the captain. “I am Torgath. My house is of no consequence. My business is to resupply before taking a journey across the mountains, and I swear allegiance only to my gods.”

  The captain arched his dusted brow and folded his arms across his sizable chest. “No one journeys across the mountains.”

  Torgath nodded. “No one without a significant purpose, no.”

  “And what is yours?”

  The orc was pleased that despite the captain’s rebuttal, the man lacked that certain tone of fear that so often crept into men’s’ voices when speaking of the cursed lands beyond the mountain range. “I seek to slay a particular demon, one that destroyed all that I hold dear.”

  The captain narrowed his brown eyes and then reached up to remove his helmet. From what Torgath understood, the removal of an officer’s helmet among the Sidhureen was a sign of respect. “Not a treasure seeker then, or a glory hound?”

  Torgath shook his head. “I am neither of those. My mission is personal, but of the utmost importance.”

  The captain tucked his helmet under his left arm and waited, locking eyes with Torgath. The orc knew that the captain was waiting for the reciprocal sign of respect. “When I remove my mask, most men do not like what they see,” Torgath announced.

  The captain nodded. “I am not most men. If what you say is true, then let me see the face of the man who would risk his life and soul to the Void just for the chance to hunt something that is likely beyond his powers to subdue.”

  Torgath blinked. This captain knew of the Void? Perhaps he deserved more respect than Torgath imagined. “By my honor, I mean your people no harm, and intend only to pass through after purchasing supplies.”

  The captain nodded once, and then gestured with his chin.

  Torgath positioned himself so that only the captain could see him, and then reached up to remove his facemask. The orc deliberately moved slowly, keeping his hands visible at all times as the captain took in the orc’s face.

  The captain grinned from the left corner of his mouth and then nodded. “I thought I detected a hint of orcish in your accent.”

  “You...”

  The captain held up a hand. “You can replace your mask. If you have the honor to respect my wishes, I can trust you for the night. Give me a list of supplies you require, and I can point you in the right direction.”

  Torgath smiled and put his mask back over his face. “You are not like most men I have met,” Torgath said.

  “My name is Jarin Asurid. Let’s just say that I have had a few encounters with your people, and leave it at that. Though, I wouldn’t take the mask off once inside the city. Others will not look upon you as a friend.”

  Torgath nodded once more and extended his hand. The two shook. “I will be discreet, and we’ll leave at first light.”

  The captain gave a final squeeze of Torgath’s hand and then turned to the men at the gate. “Open and let the men pass, no restrictions. They’ll stay for one night and exit in the morning.” The captain replaced his helmet and walked back to his station while Tui and Kiuwa came up to Torgath.

  “What did you say to him?” Tui asked.

  “The truth,” Torgath replied. “The captain is an honorable warrior.”

  Kiuwa glanced back to the captain and then gestured to Torgath’s mask. “I thought I saw you remove the mask.”

  “You did,” Torgath answered. “He said he had encountered my kind before, and I got the impression that the encounters were not all bad.”

  Tui shrugged. “Seems to line up with my experience. After all, I’ve only met one orc in my lifetime, and he is far different from what I had been taught to expect.”

  Torgath took the compliment with a slight smile and appreciative nod. “And not all Kuscans are pirates,” Torgath fired back. The orc was never comfortable taking praise, and sought to undercut Tui’s words with a joke that would lighten the mood. It worked, and both Kuscans let out a belly laugh before turning back toward the gate. They stabled their horses and then walked through the gate on foot. Torgath stopped by the captain to hand write a list of supplies, mostly types of food that traveled well without rotting and needing little preparation, as well as rope, a few new medical supplies, and a couple of odds and ends that might come in handy.

  “You’ll be best served by going to Miller’s General Store. His family is newer to these parts, but in the last ten years no one has had better prices on these kinds of items,” Captain Asurid said. “Though if you need to look for anything related to weapons and armor, you’ll want Matsui, he’s the best smith we have.”

  Torgath shook his head. “Our weapons and armor aren’t in need of repair. We just need the other items.”

  “Very well, second street on your left after you pass through the gate,” Captain Asurid said as he made a signature at the bottom of the note. “Then go seven buildings down and take a right through the alleyway. That’ll bring you out in front of Miller’s place. Tell him I sent you.”

  Torgath shook the captain’s hand once more and then led the Kuscans through the gate. The city’s streets were dusty cobblestone fairways with a decent amount of foot traffic. A few women in bright colored silks waved dainty laced kerchiefs and called out to them, but even Tui paid the street walkers little mind. A couple of men tried to approach and sell various wares, stolen no doubt judging from the way the men hid them in their coats and looked about suspiciously before displaying the fine jewelry and silverware they obviously couldn’t afford legitimately. These men Kiuwa brushed aside with a heavy hand, knocking one of the peddling thieves to the ground, but no one around seemed to care. Even the thief left without so much as an angry glance back toward them.

  The orc turned the trio down the second street on the left. The buildings were dull and plain, consisting of brown stones or yellow clay bricks the color of desert sand. Most lacked any sort of flowers or decorative vegetation of any kind aside from the odd shrub here and there that seemed more like a stubborn weed than anything someone would intentionally plant and nurture. Torgath thought the whole aesthetic rather harsh, even by orcish standards. The only orcish tribe he knew of that roamed the desert sands, The Dragon-walkers, also carried with them potted plants of all sorts. Little pots with flowers and miniature trees that were pruned and shaped to create a kind of living sculpture; and big pots that would house four and five foot tall trees from which a family would hang their crest and colors. If a nomadic tribe could do all of that to beautify their
temporary homes, then why didn’t these humans do likewise for a city they had thrived in?

  Torgath let the question die unanswered as he and the two Kuscans passed by a couple of butcher shops, a tanner, blacksmith, and three other shops before finding the appropriate alleyway. They walked through the narrow alley, scaring a manged cat from some sort of refuse that may have resembled food at one point, and then picked their way through old crates and discarded bottles before emerging around the corner of a very well kept shop. Unlike the other buildings, which seemed to embody a desert image with brown and shades of yellow stone, this shop was made with board and batten siding, painted white with dark chocolate trim. The windows held long flower pots from copper brackets, displaying purple, blue, and yellow flowers.

  Finally, someone who takes pride in himself. Torgath reached for the polished brass doorknob and pushed the door open. Instantly the smell of cinnamon and bougainvillea circled around him and filled his nostrils. Torgath looked to a boiling kettle and guessed it was the source of the scent, for it had a narrow spout through which a continuous column of steam rose into the air. The shop’s floor was made with wood planks, something of a rarity out in these parts, and the ornate red and gold rugs that covered parts of the floor finished the look. Shelves and tapestries lined the walls, while tables arrayed with fine clothes and more rugged supplies stood in the center of the room. Toward the back was a long counter, and behind it stood a man with broad shoulders and smiling eyes.

  “Welcome to Miller’s General Store,” the man said. “Whatever it is you need, I have it, and at prices and quality no one else can beat.”

  “Who is your supplier?” Torgath asked, continuing to survey the items on display around him.

  “It’s a family business. I have two brothers who run similar stores in other cities, and my father runs our main location in the capitol city.”

  Torgath glanced to the man, who appeared to be in his late forties judging by the amount of gray that had grown from his head. “A mighty enterprise,” Torgath replied with a quick nod. “Captain Asurid sent me to collect the supplies on this list.”

  The shop keep’s smile faded and he squinted at Torgath. “Captain Asurid you say?”

  Torgath nodded and produced the list to give the shop keep.

  “Hmm. Yes, I have these items, of course. I can fulfill the order immediately. Shall I deliver it to you somewhere, or will you be carrying this order out yourselves?”

  “We can take it now,” Torgath said.

  “Very well. Give me just a moment. Feel free to browse around and add anything else you might like.” The shop keep turned and disappeared through a door in the back of the shop. He emerged a moment later with a large wooden crate. “I’ll likely need two crates to hold it all, but it will only be a moment,” he said. His voice conveyed urgency, but not so much that it alarmed Torgath.

  The shop keep bustled about the shop, gathering the items on the list and inspecting each one before placing it into a crate. At the end he picked each crate up and tested the weight, redistributed a few items, and then nodded. “All right. The order is ready for you, sir.”

  Torgath approached the bar, holding a small boot dagger he had found on a table displaying other small knives and some eating utensils. “Can I add this?”

  The shop keep smiled. “That’s a special piece,” he said. “Not enchanted or anything like that, but it is said to be lucky. Had it given to me by a miner the day after he struck a gold vein and retired.”

  Torgath grinned. “I won’t be hunting gold, but if it’s lucky I’ll take it along just the same.”

  The shop keep smiled and placed it into a crate after wrapping it in a tan cloth. The shop keep then pushed the crates forward and stood there smiling.

  “How much do I owe you,” Torgath asked.

  The shop keep’s smile faded and he drew his brow in close together. “Nothing,” he said.

  Torgath turned to glance at Kiuwa and Tui. “I think there has been a mistake.”

  “No mistake, Captain Asurid sent you, and this is his mark.” The shop keep pointed to the order and grinned. “We always make sure to take care of our local guards. It’s a Miller family tradition that keeps us safe both within and without the city walls.”

  “I can’t let another man pay for my goods,” Torgath said.

  The shop keep pushed the crates closer to Torgath. “Asurid isn’t paying for them. He reviews the list to ensure it’s reasonable, then places an order. The Miller family then fulfills the order. It’s that simple. Think of them as gifts.”

  “Gifts?” Torgath said, his shock coming through enough in his tone that the shop keep laughed.

  “If Asurid says you get his seal, that’s good enough for me. I cannot accept payment for these goods.”

  “Is it too late to add more items?” Tui put in. With his peripheral vision, Torgath saw the sharp elbow Kiuwa put into Tui’s ribs.

  “Captain Asurid either honors you, your mission, or both,” the shop keep said. “These items are yours, courtesy of the Miller family. Go with our blessing, and may the gods smile upon your fortune.”

  Torgath gave a nod, but was more than happy to have a mask hiding the dumbfounded expression he was certain was plastered across his face. “You have my thanks. I will remember this,” Torgath said.

  Kiuwa and Tui took up the crates and the trio exited the shop.

  They walked a short ways down the same road until they came to a lively building with loud music spilling from the open doorway. A pair of men were playing a card game at a table off to the right of the front door, while four men played some sort of dice game at a different table on the left. The heavy drums within the building reminded Torgath of home. No one could ever play the drums like an orc, but it was a decent substitute. Instead of a roaring bonfire with warriors dancing around it, Torgath found rows of tables filled with card and dice games on the inside. Scantily clad women picked their way through the crowds keeping mugs filled with ale and pipes filled with heavily flavored tobacco that created a thick layer of smoke along the ceiling. All the windows were painted over with scenes of sunny vales and plains, and there wasn’t a clock in sight. From the bags under many patrons’ eyes, sleep was a lost concept in this place, as was time itself.

  “Perhaps we should find another place to stay,” Tui commented.

  Torgath shook his head. “I’ll make the arrangements.” Torgath left the two near the door and approached a large, well-dressed man in a suit of silk. A pair of blonde women clung to the man as if they might lose him should they ever let go.

  What was it with human women and their lust for wealth? This particular man was nothing special to look at, even by human standards. His clothes were fine, but behind them was the chubby, soft girth of a man who had likely never worked a day in his life. His skin was so pale that Torgath doubted whether the man had even seen the sun within the last year, which took some doing in this particular town.

  “No credit,” the man said in a nasal voice. “Bring coin, gems, or jewelry to wage with.”

  Torgath shook his head. “I am looking for a room.”

  The man smiled wryly. “I have three available still, rent is by the hour.” The man pushed the woman on his left forward. “Silti makes for great company.”

  Torgath frowned behind his mask. “I’m not looking for company.” Judging by the insulted expression on the woman’s face, the orc had obviously not hidden his disdain well.

  “I have others, if Silti doesn’t meet your approval.”

  Torgath paused. His frown deepened and a seed of rage sprouted within his chest. Insulted for the woman, Torgath shook his head and turned away.

  “Or is it a matter of affordability?” the man called out. “I have cheaper women that cost only two coppers for the hour.”

  Torgath stopped. He fished a silver coin from the purse hanging from his belt and turned back to the man. “Money I have. It appears that you have it as well, but there is somethi
ng I have that you do not.” The orc reached up, holding the silver coin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I hardly think so,” the man said with a rolling guffaw. “I have everything!”

  Torgath snapped his fingers, shooting the coin forward and striking the man squarely in the forehead. The coin was just sharp enough to cut the skin. The man’s head rocked backward as his eyes shot open wide and his mouth fell agape.

  “You’re bleeding,” Torgath stated. “So I suppose there must be a heart inside that grotesque, useless body of yours, but know this, Khefir will be only too quick to collect your soul when your mortality expires, and then you will see the truth of it. You have nothing, and you never will.” The orc turned and left the hall, signaling for Tui and Kiuwa to follow him.

  They weren’t on the street more than ten seconds before Kiuwa commented on the situation. “So, were you bored, or did you not think having one warlord after us was enough of a challenge so you had to add the owner of a casino?”

  Tui grunted. “It was a pretty big casino. Lots of bouncers.”

  Torgath shrugged. “He bothered me.”

  “Well,” Kiuwa started. “I will say that is the first time I have ever seen money used to so great an effect as a weapon.”

  Tui snorted.

  “Money well spent,” Torgath offered. The three of them laughed and went on to find a different inn that settled better with Torgath’s conscience.

  They fell upon a quaint adobe brick building with log trim and supports. The windows were made of heavy cloth, but the interior of the building smelled mostly of roasting lamb and beef, mixed with tobacco and alcohol, of course. A pair of tall, wide-shouldered men boasting arms nearly as large as Torgath’s stood near the door, checking each person that entered the hall, including Torgath and his escorts.