by Jesse Teller
She wanted nothing to do with a horse, tried to ignore them and keep moving. He came to a great barrier of wood and stone. A wall made of anything that could be grabbed and hammered in place. They walked until they reached a gap in the wall, where six men stood with weapons and armor. One of them spit when they saw Holl. The others smiled.
“I think I have one of yours,” Holl said. The men looked at her. They seemed to be searching for something, looking for a clue as to who she was or what she might have done to get sent here.
A large man stepped up to her and smiled. He had a big grin, a grin that seemed to make a fool out of him, and Helena decided she did not like this man.
“I’m Whelter.” He winked his big blue eye at her and laughed. “I want to be your friend.”
She looked at Holl and back at the brute. “I think I have enough friends, thank you,” she snapped.
Whelter nodded. “If you change your mind, let me know. These guys are going to take you to whoever you want to talk to. If any of them give you any trouble, I will find out and break them open for you.” Whelter smiled at her, but it was a strained smile. She touched his hand, and he froze.
“Whelter, I’m sorry. I do want to be your friend. I need every friend I can get,” she said. “I just—”
“You thought I wanted more than a hand shake,” he said. “I come off creepy sometimes. Listen, Holl, you’re a good man. If you need me, call for me. I’ll take care of her.”
Holl looked at her, and she smiled.
“This is where the men like to drink.” Whelter pointed to a rundown building with men staggering around it. He pointed to a filthier building. “This is where the men drink too much. You will find me there if you need to find me,” he said with a snort.
She laughed.
“There is a well in each one of the ghettos. This is our well,” Whelter said. “I’m a Redfist guy myself. Biggest of the ghettos, most popular. There is a guy there I will want to introduce you to. He is like a big brother to all of us, my best friend, and he will see to any needs you have.”
“He is a Redfist?”
“Flak, yeah. Best man I ever met,” Whelter said.
“I will meet him eventually, I’m sure.” She fought hard to mask the anger in her voice, and if he did pick up on it, he didn’t mention it.
“This is Beastscowl’s ghetto. Gerber is master here, and he will help you in any way he can. His son, Brenden, is going to be here soon, I hope. Great guy. I will introduce you if you want. Gerber is a good man, but strict. Doesn’t care too much for me, but I don’t hold it against him.” Whelter shoved her with one of his big elbows. “If I started holding a grudge against a person just for not liking me, I would be a pretty lonely guy.” He laughed.
They walked into a section of the city that had a lot of vicious looking men in it. It seemed every violent man in the city was concentrated here. All the scowling, mean-looking men were gathered around this collection of streets. Helena looked up to see a massive building, two times bigger than the hall back home, with windows on one entire side. Hung on it, like a mask on a warrior, was a great image of a snarling tiger. The face was made of strips of wood and splotches of metal. The entire section of wall seemed to be raging, and within its huge, gaping jaws sat a window. From within that window, a great man stared at the street beneath. He stood with one foot on the windowsill and a hand gripping a spear. She knew him to be the Father of Beasts, and she cursed herself for choosing to come here of all places.
Whelter saw her to the door of the building, a large hole in the side of the structure that gaped open as if hungry. When they got close, a set of men painted in lurid colors stepped out before Whelter and shoved him.
“Not wanted. Go, now,” the man said to Whelter. He spat on the ground. Whelter laughed.
“Never touched that girl,” Whelter said.
“He has been good enough to bring me to see Gerber. He has been a gentleman and—”
“Let me tell you about Whelter the Hole,” the man before her said. “He is not good for anything worth talking about. His father is a drunk and a coward. His mother is, well, I’m not sure what she is. She didn’t stick around to let us all know. Shit him out and ran is what she did.”
Whelter clenched his jaw, and Helena stepped in front of him.
“Say it again,” she said.
“Say what?” The man scanned Helena, from her face to her feet and back up. “What do you want me to say, darling?”
“Call him worthless again. I want to hear it. I want to look into your eyes while you say it, so I can memorize what you look like,” Helena said.
“Why do you want me to do that for you, dear?” He stepped forward, licking his lips.
“Because I’m going meet Flak Redfist today, and I am sure he would want to know what you are saying about a good friend of his.”
The man paled. “Flak is not coming by today, is he?” He looked at the man next to him, who stepped back. “Is Flak coming today? I don’t know. Whelter, if you want to go in, you can go. I was just ribbing you, old friend.”
Whelter looked at both men, then at Helena.
“Let’s go, dear,” she said. He extended his elbow to her, and she took it.
“I did touch her,” Whelter said, “because she begged me to.” They walked on, and Helena could not help but smile.
Whelter stood outside the door. He lowered his head. “You go on without me. I will be here when you get back. Gerber doesn’t like me very much, and I don’t want to get him going. Being seen with me will not help your standing with him.”
She touched his hand and nodded. She knocked on the door, and a deep voice told her to enter.
When she walked into Gerber’s chamber, she was immediately hit with the smell of dog. The place reeked of dogs. Over a dozen of them lounged about in every conceivable position, in every corner and cranny.
She could not take her eyes off them as she stepped into the room and to the far corner where a throne sat. As she looked at each dog, she felt as if the master could see through all their eyes, as if Gerber could see every angle of her.
She stopped before the great throne. The man struck fear into her heart.
It was not his expression. Though it was fierce and deadly, she had seen its like before. It was not his body, though Gerber Beastscowl was a man of girth. It was not the weapon in his hand or the armor he wore. She had been around warriors all her life.
It was the aura, the indistinguishable taint to the air that stirred around him. It was as if he made the very air violent, as if, by his presence alone, he could drive the world to a primal need for blood and strife. Gerber had the presence of violence. As he looked at her, she felt as if she were being eaten alive.
“You have chosen to live with me and my family. You are of course, welcome. You are an exile. You have been driven from your home on the mountain, and I don’t care why. You never have to tell me. Be it murder or worse, I never need to know. That life, I hope you know, is behind you. You can never go back. Here, you start anew. Here, we accept you for who you are at this moment.”
He stood and stopped before her. “I am your protector. If anyone wants to hurt you, they will do it through me. My son will be joining me very soon. He will take over some of my duties so that I can see to a few things I have been wanting to get to for years. His name is Brenden. You may know him, you may not, but know this. If you need him for anything, he is at your disposal.”
He clapped his hands together, and she jumped.
“Rachel will find you a place to live and, if you are ready for one, a job.” He sat down. A woman stepped up beside her.
Helena froze. She had but to turn her head and she would see the woman who was going to marry her Erick. She felt the dagger on her hip, heavy and waiting, and she knew she would not survive if she tried to hurt this woman.
“This is Rachel Beastscowl, my daughter. Until you are settled, you will stay with her.”
Helena turned a
nd almost cried out in dismay. Rachel was stunning, a piece of art draped in a woman’s body. Her hair was thick and light brown. It flared around her head the way Helena always wanted hers to. Rachel had crisp blue eyes and full lips. She had a perfectly sculpted chin and cheekbones, and seemed the most exotic and lavish thing Helena had ever seen.
She wore black and white feathers around her neck on a gown that clung tight to her muscled form. From her hips hung two short swords. Helena gasped when she saw them and could not help herself but to speak.
“You are not allowed to carry those. Women in the Ragoth culture do not wield weapons.” She looked at Rachel, then to Gerber. He had already walked away and stood staring out the window at the streets he ruled.
“I carry these blades because I am of Grethel’s blood.” Her voice was rich and deep like a strong red wine. “It is my birthright to fight beside men. All of Grethel’s daughters were fighters. And dear woman, I dare any man to tell me I am not allowed to defend myself.”
Helena looked at the floor. It was a mistake to come here. She should have gone to the Redfist ghetto, or the Black Hand, any family but this one. She was not ready for this reality. She was not ready for Rachel to be this perfect. The children this woman would give Erick would be gods and goddesses. The lives those children would lead would be noble and pure. With this woman’s blood mixed with Erick’s, only power could result. Helena fought against the tears as Rachel, in all her glory, took Helena by the hand and led her away.
The hand was soft. Helena expected callouses and tough skin, but Rachel’s hand was soft and smooth.
Her hand was strong and reminded Helena of Erick. She shoved the thought away as she was led out of the room and into the hall. Whelter stood in the hallway, his head down as Rachel stepped up beside him and grinned.
“Whelter brought you here, didn’t he?” she asked.
Whelter lifted his eyes to hers and nodded.
“I brought her here. She is my friend. She is under my protection,” Whelter said. “Anyone tries to hurt her, they will go through me.”
“Quite the protector you have there, Helena,” Rachel said. “Whelter is...” Rachel stepped up to Whelter and smiled. She ran her finger across the stubble of his cheek and laughed. “…Mighty. Whelter is mighty. He used to be a street fighter, didn’t you, Whelter?”
“No more,” he said.
“Oh no, not anymore, but you were a street fighter. Fought groups of men for sport. For money. Used to fight the soldiers of the city in mobs by himself.”
“Not a thing I’m proud of. I don’t take to that kind of work anymore.”
“Watching Whelter fight is like watching an angry dog. He is ruthless and mean. My papa dislikes him. Would run him from the city if he could. Isn’t that right, Whelter?”
“Gerber is a fine man. I don’t hold it against him that he doesn’t like me. And if I remember right, he didn’t like you too much for a while there, either.”
“Whelter, you will always command a part of my heart,” she said.
“You belong to the Flurryfist now,” Whelter said. “Those times are over. Those times are but memories.”
Helena looked at Rachel and then back to her friend, and felt as if she would be sick. This woman had given herself to a man, had rolled with Whelter in some dark place somewhere, and even now held something for him.
Rachel stared at him for a long time before tapping her lip with a long fingernail and nodding. “Are you going to come with us, Whelter?”
He shook his head. “No, Beastscowl, I do not wish to soil your name. And I do not wish to soil your reputation.” He bowed to them both and pointed a thick finger at Helena. “Find me later. I want to introduce you to Flak. You’re gonna love him.” Whelter looked at Rachel one more time before turning and walking away.
Rachel watched him go. She sighed and took Helena’s hand again. “Do you wish to meet the Redfist now?” Rachel said. “You can’t want to go to a hovel and hole yourself up, can you? You have the entire city at your feet. You just arrived. Where can I take you?”
“I am tired. I would much like to rest,” Helena said.
“I will take you to your chambers, but do not think I do not know you are lying.”
Helena’s heart jumped. She looked at Rachel, struggling to find a way out. “You have wanted to get away from me since you first met me. You dislike me already. I am used to it. Most women hate me. And I will not make you spend time with me, but I will also not allow you to get away with a lie.” Rachel nodded and walked away. “Follow me then.”
Helena grabbed Rachel and turned her around. “Why do women hate you?”
Rachel looked at the hand on her arm, back up to Helena with her perfect eyes, and smiled. “I am beautiful. I am sought after. I am a Beastscowl, and I am a warrior. All these things are marks against me, but more than anything else, I am not their woman.”
“What can you mean by that?”
Rachel turned. Helena followed.
“I do not bow and scrape. I do not serve men. I do not let men tell me what to do, and I do not accept foul treatment. The women see my defiance, and they hate me for it.”
“You do obey men,” Helena said.
Rachel stopped but did not turn. She took a deep breath and kept walking. “Why would you say this to me? You do not know me anymore than I know you. Yet I do not make assumptions about you.”
“Flak Redfist commands you. He told you to marry, and so you will,” Helena said.
“Flak Redfist is a god of men. It is not a foul thing to be led by a god. And you have no idea what you are talking about. I want to marry Erick. I am doing it for myself as much as because I was asked to.”
“What is this man that you want to marry him so badly?”
“Erick is a Flurryfist. He is enormous.”
Helena scoffed at the superficial things Rachel liked about him. She did not know him. She did not feel for him.
“He is funny.”
Helena curled her fingers into tight balls of fury.
“Erick is kind. He is loud and brutish. He once caught a spear that was thrown at me.” She sighed and shuddered just a bit. “He snatched it right out of the air. He whispers when he is alone with me, and he is a good kisser.” Rachel laughed, and Helena felt ill. “Erick is the best this city has to offer. Not my first choice in men, but he is a fine thing.”
Helena fought back the tears poorly. She wiped them from her eyes and reminded herself that when Erick last saw this woman, he did not know of Helena’s love for him. He had no choice but to grow his feelings for her. Still, the idea of Erick whispering to this woman made Helena want to slice her throat. His, too.
“I want to see this man you love so well,” Helena said. Rachel spun on her. Her hand touched her sword, and Helena stepped back.
“I did not say I love the Flurryfist,” Rachel said. “One day I will. But he has not earned that yet. Love can shift from one person to another. I have to believe that. My love will one day turn to my Erick. Until then, I can give him only devotion.”
Helena shook her head and pointed forward. “Take me to his home. I want to meet him,” she said.
“Fine. I have not seen him in over two years. He is expected today. Betten went to fetch him. Woodsman. Funny. Kinda smelly. Lot of fun. I might try to pawn him off on you. You will find him to your liking. Every woman likes Betten. You are far prettier than any woman he has ever spent time with.” Rachel took her hand and squeezed it. “Far prettier.”
Rachel led her up the street, out of the Beastscowl ghetto and down the section of town that held only progetten. She took her to a long, winding street that had a great arch over the main road. Carved in the center of the wooden arch, crafted of spare boards and rock, shined the image she had known all her life. There, like a beacon of hope, sat the Flurryfist symbol. She looked at the streets beyond, hundreds of souls in all manner of garb walking and talking and selling wares. It seemed this place had many more citizens t
han the Beastscowl did.
“Why are there so many people here?” Helena asked.
“This is where our marketplace is located. Progetten from all over the seven ghettos come here to buy their wares.” They rounded a corner, and a great grouping of small tents lined the streets.
“What do you mean buy? I do not know this word,” Helena said.
“Of course you do not, but you will learn. I will have a citizen from Beastscowl see to your education of all things Tergor. Until then, just know that this is the place everyone comes to get what they need.”
They shoved their way through a press of people. Helena saw more people here than she had ever seen in any one place before. She seemed lost in people, as if they were a wilderness all to themselves.
Up the street, she could see a large building. It was five stories tall and decorated with shining metal tiles that lit it up bright. The entire structure seemed to have a golden gleam to it, though the metal tiles were not gold at all. The building had been painted gold, the stones set in yellow.
“What is that?” Helena asked. It was a very large building. It dominated everything.
“That is going to be my home. That is the home of the Flurryfist. Erick will live there when he comes to us. It is his palace, if you will.”
“What is a palace?” Helena asked.
“You will learn.”
Helena saw women’s clothing hanging from the window, and looked at Rachel. “Have you already moved in?”
“Oh, by the Seven no. My papa would kill me. I will move in after we are married,” Rachel said. “Until then, I will just visit. Not too often, mind you. I wish to make him think of me and not have me at first. A man is an instrument of dreaded desires, Helena. He must be played carefully and skillfully. He must be made to swell with hunger like a well-played song.”
Helena did not know what Rachel was talking about, but she nodded and let her keep talking.