A pale grey sheet coated over the Dhaar, spraying down wisps of moisture onto the damp ground. There wasn’t a sound of the drizzle on his hood, even for his enhanced ears. Nor the pitter patter on cloth, only a haze of wetness.
Mazin’s boots squelched on the gravel road with every step, though nothing compared to the mud coated wheels of the carriage. They squashed and ground along the road, digging a new groove in the gravel.
For all the gentle rainfall, the Dhaar Province was still cold. Especially in the early morning hours, which wasn’t difficult to wake up to. He tightened the borrowed cloak when a violent gust tested his defences.
He was grateful for the return of the mask over his eye. A suggestion from Nameless, Kaal’Kamal possessed a presence of Tigers with the potential of recognising him. Caution was all it was, and caution was still on his mind, despite the comfort amongst Nameless’ family.
Prince Mazin glanced back at Ai-leesha bringing up the rear. Perhaps it was the cloaking greyness of the drizzle, or her leafy green cloak warming her from head to booted ankle. The girl was a picture of gloom, upright and tall, lips pursed, eyes fixed on the muddy road.
She hadn’t spoken a word since Nameless explained their situation. He recalled her storming away with her brother in hand during Nameless’ retelling. Mazin turned away when her eyes rose towards him. It didn’t feel like his place to inquire. He wasn’t sure what soured her. Though her constant efforts to bring him comfort since he joined them only encouraged him to return the favour.
Mazin slowed his pace beside the carriage, a little way behind Nameless himself, until Ai-leesha caught up.
“Don’t,” she muttered before he searched for the words.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out instead.
“Not your fault, but thank you anyway.”
They said nothing more, but her pace quickened to match his own. She walked closer to him once again, without gripping his arm. It was the splash of the carriage’s wheel in a sudden puddle that lifted her mood further. Ai-leesha chuckled as they sidestepped the muddy spray.
The quiet drizzle was a blessing for his clothes. His current shirt and pants were far from spotless, none of his clothes stuffed into his bag were clean, but the rain was doing its part in easing that. Donning subtly soiled clothes on freshly cleaned skin dampened the soothing warmth of the spring. He hadn’t time to search for a stream to scrub away his journey from his clothes, but this Kaal’Kamal might allow some time for laundry work.
Nameless paused and turned towards Mazin as the drizzle hardened into rain.
“Best to hide your khopesh as well. It would draw unnecessary attention to you.”
Mazin loosed the straps and followed Nameless to the carriage after it paused. He shoved it into one of the side drawers. The prince rushed into a side pocket and produced the ironvine ring wrapped in a torn sleeve.
“That’s a fine jewel,” Nameless muttered.
“A gift from my trainer, Kumkani Lihle,” Mazin replied after slipping off his glove.
“May I?” Ai-leesha squeaked and Mazin dropped it into her palm.
“The kumkani trains you? I was right to think you were capable.”
“Do you know him?”
“I know of the kumkani. They know his story in the Boor Province, even in Jagu’Ghaatee. Dual wielder at such a young age, and the longest reigning kumkani, admirable.”
“Is this ironvine?” Ai-leesha asked.
“Mmh.”
“I have always wanted to see an ironvine piece. The Panthers are quite protective of their crafting secrets.” Ai-leesha returned it.
The ring warmed in his grip, and the rubies glowed like fire when he slid the ring onto his middle finger. It tightened. He slipped his glove back on and jogged to catch up after falling behind.
Kaal’Kamal announced itself with the noise first, forcing its way through the hardening drizzle. The scent was strange, enraged almost, sharp like fire. Then came the usual aroma of towns, the smell of baking and sweat, of sewage and flowers. Yet the simmering anger overpowered them all. Collective disgruntlement wafting into his nose, piercing through the darkening sheet of rain, barring the lantern lights of the town from his eyes.
Concern oozed from Nameless ahead, and the carriage slowed. Isa hummed to her sobbing baby within.
Darkwood walls rose from foundations of weeping stones, with guarded watch towers where crossbows waited in capable arms. Rain pinged off the tiled roofs of the towers, and the homes behind. Guards patrolled along the walls, ignoring the rain. Their lamellar amour appeared sturdy but plain, with soggy fur decorating the hems. Eyes strained beneath their helms.
Not Tamers then.
“Travellers!”
A man in resplendent armour waved at them before an open stone gate. The red plates jumped out from a sea of black, marked with strengthening script. But it was the demonic horned helm that drew Mazin’s attention. A red mask snarled with black fangs. There were hazel eyes beneath it, watchful hazel eyes.
“Hold!” He shouted again, and the nearby crossbows atop the walls aimed at them. Spears behind the Tiger Tamer lowered as a formality.
Nameless obeyed and stilled the carriage, while Mazin admired the slender, gold script strengthened blade of the naginata peaking over his left shoulder. A dark Bagha appeared from behind the Tamer, streaked with silver lightning upon its black fur. It stepped from the shadows, and peered at them with searing scarlet eyes, half a head shorter than its tall Tamer.
The Tiger glanced at Nameless’ Tamed Bavamso and his shoulders lowered. He pulled off his snarling demonic mask to reveal a face that was perhaps only two years older than himself. His formidable hazel eyes lost their strength once the rest of his pale ochre baby face stood out.
“Come forward.”
“Well met Tiger,” Nameless began.
“A Wolf so far south, what business have you in Kaal’Kamal?”
“Rest and hopefully to replenish our supplies.”
“Very well.”
Mazin stepped from Nameless’ shadow with his head and hood low. Ai-leesha was close beside him and the carriage groaned to move until concern exploded from the Tiger’s scent.
“Hold!” This time his hand edged towards his naginata. “That Lion with you, who are you?”
Mazin hesitated for a moment before raising his hood. The rain softening to a drizzle didn’t help, as if willed by the Tiger to encourage him to reveal his face. His hazel eyes narrowed.
“My love, why have we stopped?” Isa stuck her head out of the window, playing up her feigned curiosity. She turned towards the Tiger Tamer and frowned, though her fear trickled to Mazin.
The Tiger’s eyes jumped from Isa and Mazin and Nameless, skipping Ai-leesha. He made another two passes before lowering his shoulders once again. Eventually, he nodded and slid his mask back on before stepping aside. Mazin nodded and fed his friendliest smile towards the Tiger, but his attention was elsewhere. He scoured around the surroundings behind them, scanning the clearing landscape now that the grey sheet of drizzle faded.
With the clouds departing and the general gloom fading to the meagre sun, Kaal’Kamal cleared. The cobblestone street crunched from the mud that coated it. There was no gentle ground for the carriage. It rumbled along the road no matter how gently the Bavamso pulled.
The initial homes were plain and sturdy, with wooden frames surrounding eggshell coloured paper walls. Gardens decorated the raised homes, but most plants drowned in rainwater. There were a few tiled roofs, others thatched. Maple trees stood skeletal on either side of the wide cobbled street. Shielded lanterns flickered with light, but the townsfolk dragged themselves out to douse them.
All of them paused, their slow pace with the carriage allowed the longest scrutiny possible. Their curiosity mingled with glares, ever watchful, while they pinched the lantern lights with saliva coated fingers. Here was the simmering anger he caught before they entered. From every one of them, draped in floral cotton gowns, or plain haori. Few tried to whisper behind hands, swiftly slapped away by their listeners, muttering warnings about their potentially heightened senses.
It was impossible to place their anger; it was simply present. He relaxed, because it began before their eyes fell upon them. Yet there were a few who soured at their presence.
Baking bread and sizzling meat filled the air as well, beyond the angry suspicion. The rain washed away the stink of sewage, and the distant rumbling of flowing water filled his ears.
A grand manor rose in the north-west of the town. Grand was too small a word. It was a vast estate with foundations of pearly white stones. Finely carved darkwood rose from the stone. The walls were paper white, pristine, painted with black lotuses between the wooden windows.
Three storeys of black tiles glistened under the growing sunlight. They paused again in the middle of a crossroads and watched a pair of riders atop dark Bagha rush towards them.
“Guests of Kaal’Kamal, Lord Takahiro, grants you an audience before his palace. With the promise of whatever you may need to continue your journey.”
Their lamellar armour was as ornate as the Tiger at the gates, without the masks and horns on their helms. Both women were hard faced, and much older than the baby-faced gate guard. Though their words were courteous, their boredom shone through. Nameless glanced at the carriage before agreeing. Mazin caught his lingering gaze on their katanas when they turned their Bagha around to lead them.
The road was quiet compared to the street littered with residential homes. There were empty plots, and vast spaces filled with soil, patched by growing grass. The scent of anger was faint here.
It took Mazin aback at first, when he noticed the emptiness of the street, with the grand manor casting a shadow over them. There was a hint of fire, or ash, ancient but still tickling his nose as they approached the towering outer walls ringing the homestead. The surrounding empty plots, the pitiful attempts to grow gardens within them, all furrowed his brow. Though he quickly washed it all away when he watched many guards stream out from the gate.
Their armour was more ornate than many of the homes they passed. Glittering with pointless baubles and jewels, though a noticeable lack of strengthening script. But the man in the middle of their wealthy protection ring was garish in comparison. His pearly white silks possessed a hint of sky blue. Black lotuses shimmered all over him, made of black pearls.
He turned towards them and appeared haggard, with snow patches on his growing dark beard. Heavy bags weighed down his desperate eyes. Not even his sleek brunette hair, wrapped with elaborate jewels into a topknot, distracted from his obvious troubles.
“Here they are.” There was a subtle quiver in his voice.
“You stand before the Lord,”
“Now, now dear, there’s no need for that,” Lord Takahiro interrupted one Tamer leading them. “This is no formal meeting.”
Two servants scurried to his side bearing boxes smelling like an assortment of preserved foot. Cakes, and meats and some boiled vegetables, somehow.
“Please accept these gifts as a representation of my goodwill.”
The servants hesitated towards the carriage, eyeing the growling Bavamso at its head. Takahiro kept his beaming smile as the servants placed it on the ground at Nameless’ feet before rushing away.
“Why are we stopping so often?” Isa complained as she stepped out of the carriage, flinching at the sunlight before squeaking at the sight.
“Your wife, I presume, welcome fair lady.”
Isa glanced at Nameless before smiling and nodding at the Tiger. Her eyes fell towards the boxes before them and glanced at Nameless again.
“We thank you, but uh, perhaps it is best if we…”
“No, no, no, no, it is a gift. Please, a gesture of goodwill, nothing more.”
“Thank you, again.”
Nameless grumbled under his breath as Mazin joined Ai-leesha in lugging the supplies into the carriage.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“If there is anything I can assist with, please just ask.”
Nameless’ tone was reluctant. It oozed from his scent and spoiled the aroma of the supplies.
“Now that you mention it, there is a small matter which I wish to propose to you, if you wouldn’t mind joining me in my home. Perhaps your capable children wouldn’t mind being a part of,”
“No, just me,” Nameless rushed for the carriage before Lord Takahiro argued, and produced his dual blacksteel axes.
“Oh, wonderful, marvellous, of course!”
The Tiger Lord noted the axes now hanging on the Wolf’s waist and his grin stretched to his ears. Nameless shared a long look with Isa before falling under Lord Takahiro’s welcoming arm. Who quickly forgot about the rest of them, along with all the ornately armoured Tigers that surrounded him.
Mazin almost laughed once they were alone, eyeing the guards patrolling atop its thin walls. He glanced at Ai-leesha to share in his amusement, but she was elsewhere. Isa’s anxiety scorched his nostrils, and the prince rushed for his own khopesh. He ignored the jolt of bitterness surging through him from the hilt.
“In children, quickly!”
It was a rough ride along the cobbled road of Kaal’Kamal. Far more horrible than striding along it. He was holding onto whatever he could to stay in place. Not even the cushions within softened the bouncing. Ai-leesha cradled her mother in the chaos, but her attention was far from the discomfort of their current situation. Her eyes stared ahead, and she reeked of fearful determination.
Mazin was worried about the condition of the carriage when the rumbling yielded cracks. Fine deformations, but still worrying to his mismatched eyes.
There was a commotion outside, shouts from guards for the carriage to slow. Yelps sparked, fearful of the Tamed and home on wheels rumbling towards them.
“No don’t!”
Isa stopped him from sticking his head out the window.
“Ragnar will catch us.”
The carriage couldn't stop. The cracks worsened, but the carriage remained sound.
His bottom was numb by the time the carriage gave him respite. Isa calmed and Ai-leesha eased her grip. They all exhaled their relief as one and leant back. The road softened from uneven cobblestone into soft gravel. Their journey was smooth, but the carriage groaned. Nameless’ Tamed kept a brisk pace.
It lurched suddenly, and Mazin squeezed his cushioned bench until it crunched in his fingers. The carriage swung from side to side. Isa frowned at Mazin at first, before turning towards Ai-leesha. It stopped. He recognised her expression, empty in the eyes and distant.
“He says we make camp here.” Ai-leesha shook herself from her swift trance and turned towards them. “He needs to fetch him.”
They stepped out of the carriage, and distant water filled his ears. The occasional darkwood interrupted the surrounding lushness. Black arrowheads aimed for the cloud patched sky. There was a grove towards the east, and he spotted wisps of white between the tight formations. A spring bubbled there.
“Over there,” Mazin pointed towards a tight-knit formation of the sheltering trees just before the hot spring filled grove.
The Bavamso rushed towards it and Ai-leesha ran after it. Mazin strolled in their wake beside Isa and watched as she rushed to remove the harnesses from it. Nameless’ Tamed was already long gone when Mazin and Isa arrived at their camp. Ai-leesha seemed shaken, even as she gathered firewood and kindling with him.
Mazin watched the girl’s distant eyes, unable to will the words onto his tongue. They returned to the campsite and lumped down the wood. He lowered down and busied with making sparks
“Isn’t it too soon?” Isa asked, and Mazin paused. “He shouldn’t be too long.”
Mazin thought to speak, but caught the concern on her scent. Ai-leesha was no help herself, still within her own mind for the moment.
“Why didn’t we stay, at the very least myself? I could have been of aid.”
“That town was strange. We were walking into troubles far beyond us.”
“There was anger there. Couldn’t you taste it?” Ai-leesha added into the conversation finally. “That Lord has trouble on his horizon.”
“It’s only anger. I’ve tasted worse in the capital. That has never amounted to anything.”
Their eyes lingered on him, and his words left a sour taste on his tongue the longer the silence grew.
“That Lord is gathering all strength. Even he knows they will soon challenge his reign.”
“But their duty,”
“What of his duty to them? The man throws food at strangers when most of the Dhaar is turned into rubble. It wouldn’t surprise me if he bribed all those soldiers to remain around his gaudy palace. I haven’t your noses, but even I saw the rage on all their faces from the carriage. The sooner Ragnar returns, the better.”
Isa gave in eventually and Mazin sparked the flames of their campfire. The fire in the sky faded into blazing lavender. Its fingers pierced through the gaps of their shielding trees, reaching at them with waning warmth.
Ai-leesha paced behind him, nibbling her fingers and muttering to herself as she yellowed the lush grass with her boots. Isa tended to her baby, reeking of concern.
As time passed, so did his own confidence dip in Nameless. Isa’s own scent wasn’t helping at all. The now blazing campfire was no help either, and only fiddling with the ironvine ring on his gloveless hands brought any semblance of comfort.
His fingers itched and his mind was quick to blame him for Nameless’ delay. A stern word, and he abandoned the man. Run away with his family instead of standing beside him, another capable sword at his side. But a stern word forced his tail between his legs, all because of his cowardice towards his own khopesh.
Ai-leesha gasped to break the silence, and Mazin jumped in surprise. Her relieved scent pursued her gasp, and the prince surged to his feet to join her, staring towards the west at the lumbering rider approaching them. She snatched his wrist and squeezed.
“He’s here!” She shouted, and Isa burst out of the carriage with her son cradled in her arms.
Her eyes jumped around before landing on them. Isa’s chest heaved as she approached, eyes still wandering around their somewhat secluded camp.
“Where, where?”
“There!” Ai-leesha pointed and Isa’s eyes narrowed. She pulled many faces until Nameless finally came into view for her eyes.
“Sorry I’m late,” Nameless chuckled when he dismounted, and suffered a hard punch from his daughter.
Mazin smelled blood on the Wolf. He appeared somewhat dishevelled, but more from a frantic ride rather than a fight. He let Isa slap him across the face, though his beard cushioned most of it.
“Perhaps I deserved both,” he chuckled. “I needed to throw them off my scent, ride away from where you made camp before finding you all.”
Nameless strode past them, much to his family’s surprise. Mazin followed him to the fire. The others were slow to do it. He knelt beside the fire and dried his strangely dripping hands before the flames. A cleansing of his handiwork to spare his family of his violence, the prince assumed at least.
“I could have helped,” Mazin muttered, fighting away the last of his fading guilt.
“Indeed, but alone, I only need to worry about myself. One enemy for them to underestimate, with a Lion at my side, I imagine their vigilance would have risen tenfold.”
“They underestimated a dual wielder?”
Ai-leesha snorted at Mazin’s disbelief.
“It’s why I’m here now. A few clever words, some skirmishes, and my Tamed whisked me away.”
“You should tell the prince how you became a dual wielder,” Ai-leesha muttered, a different girl now, with the tension washed away from her shoulders.
“Oh, I don’t know, a bloody tale that,”
“I wouldn’t mind at all… please?”
Ai-leesha’s smirk was beyond mischievous.
“Very well,” Nameless sighed. Darkness was quickly taking over. “Have you any knowledge of Lira the Bloodthirsty?”
“The Hamlet Cannibal?”
“The same.”
“She was a dual wielder?”
Mazin didn’t recall her being a Tamer, either. At least, the stories he read never mentioned it. Then again, his knowledge of her only came from storybooks.
“Indeed, learning of her tragic fall was a shock to myself as well. Old King Ansgar Farkry, Raban’s father, was in search of a champion to rid the Boor Province of her tyranny. I needed the money, the purpose, the chance to regain a shred of what I had lost. Lira was more than just some raving, murderous cannibal, but a Master Tamer robbed of her Tamed Jagu’ara in the most horrible of fashions.”
“I was told she began with her family, while cutting down anyone who dared to bring her to justice. I didn’t believe she feasted on the flesh of her victims, and she didn’t. It was blood she craved, the blood of her family.”
“Told by who?”
“Her grandmother, who learned the secret of their family manor’s hidden passageways as a child, used them to escape Lira’s wrath at the height of her lunacy. Finding the old woman wasn’t a simple task, but unfortunately, it wasn’t long after I forced her out of her hiding that Lira finished the last of her family.”
“The woman raved when we met. There have been nights where I recall her ravings as pleas. She ranted of a stranger she stumbled upon while we fought. I was using a shield then, and her attacks were erratic. A silver stranger who tricked her into killing her own Tamed.”
“Sorry?”
“I hardly believed it myself, and I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge her scent. It wasn’t the most challenging fight, I will admit that much, but it was certainly the strangest. Between her unpredictable and wild attacks, and her never ending ravings, there was a part of me that couldn’t see beyond her pain. It almost lost me my legs.”
“The gash on your back?”
“Mm, her wailing, those screeches when I finally delivered the… I like to think of my victory as a mercy, an end to her suffering. At least I told myself that much until it became truth. I carried her to the king, and Roole duplicated my axe as one of my rewards/ Isa and I purchased a home in Bana’Parvat after that ordeal.”
Ai-leesha nibbled on something oily as silence settled after the story. Mazin waved the food away when Isa offered, his mind struggling to comprehend what he just heard.
The Wolf ate with his family, smiling and cuddling close to Isa beside him. Mazin felt grimy, both inside and out. From his guilt and his trivialising of Lira, from the stories he enjoyed. He craved to be a hero in a story. Yet he slaughtered Unblessed without mercy.
“I should bathe,” Mazin surged to his feet, resisting the urge to scratch his crawling skin.
“Eat first child,” Isa began.
“I won’t be long,” he smiled before spinning away and fiddling with the ironvine ring on his finger.
He stomped his way towards the spring, weaving around the trees ringing around their camp. Their protection waned for a moment in the space between their camp and the tight-knit forest housing the hot spring. His skin crawled, not from guilt or imagined disgust. The once familiar sensation of being watched returned, not felt since he suffered Ammon’s presence.
Mazin’s eyes jumped around the strangely deep darkness surrounding him. He could not see any clouds in the sky above. For once he was relieved his khopesh was on his waist.
He crossed the threshold of the forest surrounding the hot spring and suddenly the sound of bubbling water ceased. It was strange, but Mazin kept walking, despite the surging darkness swarming around him. The air tightened and his chest struggled for air.
Mazin spun around with a hand reaching for his khopesh, seeing nothing but blackness instead of the borders of the forest. This wasn’t the encompassing darkness of the void, this wasn’t natural. His fine hairs stood up and he braced for a charge.
The whistling was random and all over the place. But when it focused, his khopesh was ready. He parried the first, and it pinged off the flat of his blade, spraying a black ooze on the pristine steel. Mazin was not so lucky with the second.
The dart flew off the edge and something hit his eye. Mazin grunted at the chill and the awful bitterness of the droplet that touched his tongue. His right eye darkened, and he snatched off the mask over his ruby eye in a panic.
A third dart pierced his neck like the sting of a fist sized bee. He yelped and dropped to a knee, bracing his fall by stabbing the earth.
“Now!”
Figures burst from the shadows all around, roaring with faces wrapped beneath black cloth. Their crude clubs flailed in the air and Mazin was already out of breath when he forced himself back to his feet. The right side of his face numbed. Drool oozed from his lips, yet he barely felt it drip off his jaw.
He parried the first attacker and almost dropped his blade. The second rumbled his arm when he blocked, and his knees buckled. The third disarmed Mazin and cracked the numb side of his face. Blood was faint on his tongue, and his ruby eye threatened to darken like the other.
More clubs battered him, but he roared back to his feet. The numbness spread while he flailed. Each movement was a marathon effort, but he shattered one’s jaw. He caved in another’s nose and savoured the crumbling bones against his knuckles. Mazin kicked another before his guilt took hold and heard a snap, then he lost his balance and fell flat on his face.
The shadows roared and cursed as they battered him, though with the numbness spreading all over his body it felt like nudges. He wanted to scream, but his jaws refused to move. Mazin was tired, so exhausted.
“That’s enough. Get him up.”
He recognised that voice. He floated back to his feet. At least they held him up, with a slapping, mocking hand keeping his neck upright. Mazin did nothing more than blink at the hooded man before him. There was rage in those eyes.
“Remember me?” He unwrapped his face, and Mazin did. “Compliments of the Wise One, because you didn’t want to be a good feeble prince.”
King, that Lion Bannerless who worked with Ammon, now sporting an ugly open pitch-black gash from left brow to right jaw.
“I would pay more to see what she does to you. I cannot wait for your screams to fill my ears.”
King slapped him around while he chuckled. The others laughed like sycophants.
“This is a fine blade, prince boy,” King grunted when he picked up the khopesh. It took both hands to do it. He gave up and buried it into the ground blade first. “Your Tamer weapons and their evils, so easy to dismember unsuspecting fools.”
King’s eyes dropped to his limp hand, and the greed shone through.
“Well, what do we have? A ring fit for a prince!”
King struggled with his ironvine ring, yanking violently to no avail. Mazin was thankful he felt none of it. King panted like a dog with the ring in his hand. Bile bulged in Mazin’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to glance at his broken finger.
“Suits me better,” he forced it onto his index finger. It didn’t mould to him as it did for the prince. “Don’t you think?”
King swung hard with his ringed fist, and dark spots patched Mazin’s vision. Blood oozed from his torn lips. The traitor Lion gritted his teeth and roared as he continued his barrage of punches until his blood coated the ironvine ring. The prince didn't feel the Bannerless' rage, but his eyes darkened all the same.