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Troy
Lake Sium Dimachaerus
Divine Blades
Tales of the Peninsula | Aftermath
Part II
-Ziba’s scarf-
Vol. II
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Act IV
-Takes no days off-
Hermes lifted the ceramic bowl and sucked the rest of his chicken soup out of it making loud slurping sounds.
“Lots of water, bit of salt and spices but no chicken in there. An orphan wing bone and if,” the veteran commented sourly after he finished and wiped his mouth with the back of his good hand. “One forgets how much lying people do inside large cities.”
“People lie everywhere,” Troy replied still deep in thought, a state he’d been since Siba-Kal had left them to go about his business an hour earlier with a vague promise to ‘look into the matter’. “I need a way to get them both out of the city.”
“Where to?”
“Ani Ta-Ne,” Troy replied. “The Imperial Watch ruins for starters.”
“You’ll trust the Zilan?”
“You got a better idea?”
Hermes smacked his lips and pushed the chair back, the sound irritating to the patrons having their lunch around them.
“That wasn’t even half an idea Troy,” he finally rustled.
“Hey, are you really Troy?” One of them asked afore Troy could reply, signaling for his friends to calm down. “The Pits champion?”
“I am,” Troy replied confidently. “What are ye, blind?”
“Watched you at the games,” the Cofol said with a grin and looked at his friends pleased he’d guessed right. “It was a great week champ. Best of my life. Is it true that Mista Savar was killed in Que Ki-La?” He asked.
“It is. But he went down swinging, a smile on his face!” Troy roared and bowed his head at the cheers and loud clapping from the rest of the tavern’s clients responding to his words. “The Leopard broke its claws on the Chiliad,” he added and the tavern erupted in applauds, a couple of young kids escaping their parents to come near him. Troy patted their heads smiling, slapped a youngster’s sneaking fingers away from his dagger and eyed his protesting mother intently. “Yer soft hand milady,” Troy said in a baritone voice. “I won’t cast aside.”
Her husband frowned, the woman blushing and the gathering crowd that heard the loud commotion happening inside the tavern, left the nearby market stalls to see Troy from up close.
“The Titan of Novesium!” A man yelled with enthusiasm, city guards rushing there alarmed at all the brouhaha erupting and the tavern keeper taking it a step further with a loud squealing that made everyone laugh.
“The champion’s favorite tavern!” He declared amidst the pandemonium getting a mixed response.
“Yeah? Whoa!”
“Huh? Fuck off Will-Ru!”
“HURRAH!”
“You look bigger up close,” a third admitted in awe at the now standing gladiator’s physique.
“I love you too dude!” Troy assured him grinning at the praise.
“Allgods damn it,” a young bard cursed. “He’s fucking beautiful,” and Troy turned his way, snapped his arms up and posed like a statue, biceps bulging, veins swelling, all visible muscles rippling accompanied by the -inside and outside the open doors of the tavern- ululating crowd’s gasps of envy. A lot more women now present than a moment before but Troy had no idea if the many hands fondling and touching him –many inappropriately and in all weird places- were male or female.
Not that it mattered at that very moment.
Fu De-Gar loved its gladiators with a burning passion.
“Better get a coin plate out,” a sighing at the festivities Hermes was heard saying from their overrun table. “See if we can make moneys off of these fools.”
> After enjoying a free meal much as champions do and resting inside the tavern, the gladiators searched the market and the busy streets as far as the port, always looking for a way to get more information about Ziba-Ra’s whereabouts. The news that Lake Sium Dimachaerus was back in Fu De-Gar quickly spread inside the city. In a month of catastrophes, triumphs and strange rumors, Troy’s presence and Hermes’ to a lesser extend had restored a touch of normalcy for the Garites.
A young man stopped them on their return from the Port to get their mounts from the market tavern’s stable.
“Master Troy,” the fit slave said. “Would you consider visiting the palace?”
“Lord Tsuparin wants to see me?” Troy asked a little surprised.
“I don’t see how he’d be looking forward seeing me,” Hermes retorted.
“Master Barak-Ki insisted upon hearing you’re back,” the slave replied. “Lanista Ba-Ramis didn’t have a choice.”
Dekerut’s youngest son was very fond of the Ludus.
“Well then,” Troy said and glanced at Hermes. “This is a bit weird right?”
“In what way?” The slave asked and Hermes replied for the confused gladiator.
“We’ll be there lad,” he told him. “Go ahead, we know the way and need no escort.”
“Shit.” Troy said the moment the slave had run away.
“It’s all the animals dragging ‘em carts to port.”
“No I mean, it caught me unawares?”
“Sure, but ye got that plan on the works.”
“Uhm,” Troy nodded. “Yep, yeah… that’s right.”
Hermes stood back, sole eye narrowing. “That’s more ayes than a port harlot eyeing a gold coin afore she gets fucked silly.”
“Now that was much closer to what Qathor would have said,” Troy retorted.
“Son, I’ve been cracking jokes for as long ye live, twice that actually,” Hermes grunted. “Barak will be at the Ludus. How do ye get to the palace?”
Troy scratched his head, the bald spot at the top slowly filling with a bit of growth over the dark scab.
“Luna-Ki is usually at the gardens when not visiting the markets,” he told Hermes.
“Ba-Ramis’ wife? Lord Tsuparin’s oldest daughter?”
“Yep.”
“I’m not a well-informed man but lived around the Ludi long enough to know there is a story circulating about how about ten-fifteen years back Ba-Ramis’ well in his cups, admitted he was inebriated enough to bed Lord Tsuparin’s –then unwed- daughter?”
“Sure.”
“And didn’t Dekerut asked him the next day in court why a friend would say such an insulting thing, as people were quick to rat Ba-Ramis out?”
“That’s the story,” Troy agreed. “Ba-Ramis admitted he was secretly passionate about Luna.”
“Was he?”
“Are ye kidding me? Of course not!” Troy retorted. “He couldn’t say anything else though and Lord Tsuparin had them wed that very weekend.”
Hermes grimaced and then sighed ruggedly.
“They say she has her father’s hands,” the veteran gladiator said. “And his favor. You don’t have to do this Troy and a half-arsed effort has many foolish warriors killed.”
“I need an excuse. She’ll ask for she has done it afore, I’ll accept this time and then give maximum effort. You know why?”
Hermes rolled his eyes at his earnest expression.
“No, seriously…” Troy insisted looking at him expectantly.
“You’re Naossis with a cock? Her gold toy phallus?”
“Huh? Which motherfucker said that?” Troy grunted furrowing his brows. “The god of shag was my meaning.”
“Takes no days off,” Hermes added as Troy had talked about his adventures with him on the road among other topics.
“Aye,” Troy replied. “Even when you get to mate with an ape.”
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Ba-Ramis was a big man. The Lanista had a fancy studded leather cuirass pressed over his blue tunic and stood at almost six feet, his shaven skull gleaming well-oiled under the afternoon sun. Barak in comparison was a shorter wiry young man, not even in his twenties. He had a piece of half-plate on with chainmail hanging over his midriff and a leather skirt like a gladiator. The young scion had just finished sparring as a matter of fact when Troy and Hermes got out from the hallway leading to the training grounds. A number of young recruits still practicing weapons on the small arena of Ba-Ramis’ Ludus.
The man himself addressing the two veteran gladiators the moment he spotted them.
“Look at them armed to the teeth!” He boomed pointing a big arm their way. “How about giving us a show Troy?”
“Just here to talk Ba-Ramis. I don’t want to dazzle yer students,” Troy replied modestly eyeing the young gladiators that stopped to watch them.
“Talk about what?”
“You tell me,” Troy retorted not falling for it. “It’s yer invitation.”
“That’s right! Ha-ha!” Ba-Ramis roared. “Hermes? I have a castrated lion with all its teeth, fancy a roll in the sands for old time’s sake?”
“Don’t have the balls for it,” Hermes said and spat down, then sucked at his lower teeth to gather more moisture for a second attempt.
“Don’t have… ha-ha! Now that’s a lie,” Ba-Ramis guffawed and breathed once deeply afore adding. “I insist.”
Hermes returned his stare undaunted. “Fuck off Ba,” he said soberly.
“See that? That’s balls,” Ba-Ramis explained to his Ludus. “The man got dragged by an arm ten meters. Ten!” He continued. “Chopped said arm off to free himself and went after the beast without so much as blinking.”
“There was some blinking,” Hermes corrected him. “Plenty of groaning as well.”
“I was standing too far,” Ba-Ramis admitted and shook his bald head.
“I’ll fight the Titan of Novesium,” a sweaty Barak intervened.
“The young lord has been training hard,” Ba-Ramis explained and then eyed the excited scion austerely. “But there will be no fighting.”
“You seem lacking in men Ba-Ramis,” Troy said to change the subject.
“Chiliad took everything. Karit freed some good prospects to boost his regulars,” the Lanista explained. “What do you need an army for? Just hire mercenaries or use gladiators. You’ve proven it works Troy.”
“Not in all battles, it doesn’t,” Troy replied. “Maybe with more time.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t have the patience for it. What is war? Who wants it? Look what it did to Ta-Ne.”
“We need to get Khan’s hand off the Peninsula!” Barak snapped at the Lanista.
“Better to stick with what we know Barak. You’ve been to Ani Ta-Ne?” Ba-Ramis asked Troy.
“I passed through.”
“Saw them Zilan?”
“I did. A lot of them,” Troy replied.
“Less than a couple of thousand is the rumor and if that,” Ba-Ramis insisted.
Troy grimaced. “They look very capable,” he told him.
“Yeah? Hmm,” the Lanista shrugged his big shoulders. “See right there Barak? We don’t know enough to go against the big boys.”
“Why will we even consider it?” Troy asked.
“We can’t have Letakin lands gobbled up by Wetull. That’s what Lord Tsuparin thinks. It creates a precedence. The Khan might get the same idea on the morrow. Nout was certainly looking to clear out the deck.”
“You know where the Prince is?” Barak asked.
“Was at Que Ki-La,” Troy replied. “I think the Wyvern killed everyone.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Aye,” Troy replied and licked his lips. “Turned my legs to jelly.”
“Lord Sopat says the King of Wetull is with him,” Barak replied.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Troy replied.
“Married his sister. How did he pulled that? Lucky bastard,” Ba-Ramis murmured and Barak glared at him.
“Why do you care? You married my sister!”
“Yeah, I’m talking politics here lad. The Sopat are an important family.”
“Not bigger than the Tsuparin!” Barak blasted him irate.
“There’s gold in Wetull,” Troy intervened to stop their argument. “It’s probably how the deal was made.”
“Makes sense,” Ba-Ramis replied. “Anyways, heard you talked with Siba-Kal Troy.”
“I have.”
“Gonna work for him heh?”
“He offered.”
Ba-Ramis nodded expecting as much. “You’re considering staying in Fu De-Gar then? Siba-Kal might return to Ta-Ne soon, tail tucked between legs. There’s no place for his low-energy Ludus here. Better opportunities about is what I’m saying.”
“He thinks there is and Ta-Ne is run by the Zilan,” Troy replied.
“You didn’t answer.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Could I influence yer thinking?” Ba-Ramis asked. “Coin, cunt, a parcel of land as the song goes he-he.”
“Maybe,” Troy replied. “I heard you have Ziba-Ra here.”
Ba-Ramis frowned unsure as the gladiator’s reply had wrong-footed him. “Reseph brought her on Lord Tsuparin’s orders. You know about it Barak?”
“I saw her yesterday,” Barak said. “She’s fine sure but I don’t see the appeal. Surely there are more fair slaves about and for all her skillset and education she’s getting old.”
Ziba-Ra wasn’t even twenty yet.
Yer too young to have opinion on the matter, Troy thought.
There are no slaves or women in general finer than Ziba.
Not human that is.
“You know that’s not the reason Lord Tsuparin looked to protect her,” Ba-Ramis explained. “Keep her out of harm’s way. People are all fired up these days. Too much pathos all about.”
Troy nodded and glanced at the silent Hermes. The veteran gladiator’s critical eye telling him his plan sucked arse and they were probably going to die like a couple of doofuses.
A petite Lorian slave-girl made her way over the sands keeping her head low, despite the appreciative looks from the gladiators present. She looked like a darker version of Kelly.
“What is it?” Barak asked her.
“Lady Luna wants a private audition with the Titan of Novesium,” the slave girl said quickly. “She’s expecting an answer.”
“My wife is…” Ba-Ramis started looking embarrassed but caught Barak’s sour stare and grimaced. “…thirsty for the games heroes,” the Lanista continued diplomatically. “Tell her Troy is a freedman Sirile. She can’t just order him around.”
“I’ll see Lady Luna,” Troy intervened much to Ba-Ramis surprise and Hermes’ let out a pensive grunt behind him.
“I’ll take them there,” Barak said and Ba-Ramis shrugged his shoulders giving up.
Act V
-Sparring lessons-
“In the marble springs,” Sirile told them. “She only asked for you.”
Troy stared at Hermes and Barak apologetically. “Guys just wait by them palms. Watch yer heads for any falling coconuts.”
“How about ye do yer job and let us navigate the shade?” Hermes grunted then kicked some branches away to make room to sit down under a tree.
Barak furrowed his brows. “What job?” He asked Troy.
“Old head talks out of his arse,” Troy retorted.
“He’s like an overgrown peacock,” Hermes elucidated. “All fancy plumage and funny walking. It’s a real job for him.”
“Right,” Barak said not really getting it. Troy didn’t get it as well but just nodded, puffed his chest out and started sauntering down the fancy marble-tiled nicely maintained path through the garden.
From afar, one could mistake his strolling for that of a prideful peacock sans the plumage.
> The flower gardens behind Lord Tsuparin’s palace expanded as far the brown-barked Desert Ebonies that hugged the Old Imperial Arena grounds north of the Pits and the west market. The thorny multiple trunks trees with a vase-shape were an excellent source for expensive timber but it was forbidden to cut them down without a special order. Part of the gardens had been invaded by the heat resistant flora but the rest was covered in palms and desert flowers especially around the small springs. The whole area built like an open ceiling atrium that was also part of the ancient infrastructure of Fu De-Gar. An old Imperial resort and trade port that had been abandoned when the desert had broken through the collapsed west rises due to an earthquake long before the first Cofols stepped foot in the area.
>
> You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
There were marble stairs from both sides of the small pond leading to the covered in flowers fountain. The water pouring inside the pond and its overflow in a small canal that led east towards the lake and became part of the irrigation that maintained the fields. Everything was built with pink and grey marble, from the benches to the small stools and even the thin columns of the pavilion. While vegetation had covered the tiles under foot, they were still visible and the natural pond kept clean and turned into a small pool, its edges dressed with marble as well.
Lady Luna-Ki Tsuparin was a very fit woman. Although in her thirties, she maintained her physique. Tall and with broad shoulders for a female, with a square jaw and slanted eyes that didn’t quite fit the rest of her angled face. She did have large hands though and thick fingers. Luna had a short silk skirt on, no shoes and her bosom was encased in a dark leather vest. Luna stood almost as tall as Troy and you could mistake her for a gladiatrix in the dark. The gold anklets and bracelets she wore though were adorned with real rubies so the illusion was broken there.
Luna wasn’t the prettiest woman for sure, but Troy to his credit had mixed up with some ugly donkeys in his time mostly due to circumstances and a difficult to sate libido.
She did look like her father with tits in a sense.
But while it is a disturbing line of thought, she looks nothing like an ape all things considered.
Troy cracked a toothy smile when Luna glanced his way. A couple of more slave girls with covered faces and slave outfits near the pool but Troy kept his eyes on the muscular female not wanting to distract himself with fancier targets.
“The Titan of Novesium,” Luna said and got up, her body soaked as if she had just taken a dip in the pond. “Stands amused?”
“Just confused on who would built a fancy garden behind that mountain of concrete and stone. No offense Lady Luna.”
“It’s not a palace. It’s just a large building I grew up in,” Luna explained and approached him. “Leave Sirile. Go to the kitchens and ask them to prepare an evening snack for me. We’ll take it when we return to the villa.”
She stopped at arm’s length and examined him carefully with curious eyes. “It was a warehouse I think. Most of the old buildings were up on the plateau behind the arena grounds overlooking the oasis. Everything now swept away and buried by the desert. The forest stopped the sands they say. The Imperials had built further to the west also.”
“What’s further to the west?” Troy asked looking down her face and then the strong neck. His eyes finally resting at the swell of her chests under the vest’s opening.
Ah, Troy thought his nostrils expanding.
“The desert. The Luzi Ho-Kar tribe,” Luna replied raising a penciled brow at his wandering eyes.
“Cofols?”
“Goat herders,” Luna said and touched Troy’s chin. “Uncultured.”
“Worse than Garites?”
Luna chuckled and forced him to raise his eyes on her face. “Am I ugly Troy?”
“I expected worse,” Troy replied truthfully and this time the woman laughed freely, an honest sound that reverberated inside the opening.
“Goddess help us,” Luna said and slapped his chest. “You came here armed champion of the arena?”
Word plays milady?
“Sure,” Troy replied confidently.
“You’ll lend me a sword?”
Huh?
Troy looked in her unattractive face hesitantly. “A metal sword?”
“Sure,” Luna retorted mockingly mimicking his response. “I watched you fight Madrox in the Pits,” she said while he unsheathed his Kopis. “I screamed in joy despite knowing that I had lost my husband and father a lot of coin.”
“Yer father consults you on financial matters?”
Obviously the bulk of Ba-Ramis coin came from her dowry.
“You find it surprising? I’m not pretty, but my brain works.”
Troy cleared his throat and offered her the blade. Luna took it and extended her arm as if testing the weight. “Quite the spectacle it was. I was surprised. It’s good to be proven wrong.”
“It depends,” Troy murmured not sure where she was going with this. “Ballard did most of the work back then.”
“Yes, but Mista Savar was a riddle. Unapproachable. You though weren’t. Plus that charge at the end of the fight was memorable.”
“I got plastered on the wall,” Troy reminded her.
“You did but came back to finish the job,” Luna argued and stepped back to wave the blade around.
Troy tensed up. There was power in her wild swings.
“Can you stop my blade Troy?” She taunted him.
Are you nuts woman?
“Better not to test it.”
“When I was young,” Luna continued with a smirk at his words. “I wanted to fight in the arena. Barak wants it too but he isn’t very good. My father believed I had the talent, but never gave permission. I could train but I couldn’t fight. A slave was forced to do what I wanted.”
“Few people dream of this. Especially women.”
“Why? Getting married to an uncaring man is a better fate?” Luna retorted. “That’s not bondage Troy? I’ve seen women fight as well as men.”
“Some women might, but you’ll find few men that know how to use their blades easy to fight. I’m being lenient here.”
“Do you want to test your theory?” Luna asked and pointed the blade on his chest.
Troy stood back alarmed. “That’s a sharpened blade milady.”
“That’s a scimitar on your back,” Luna replied. “You have the reach and I’ll wager it is equally sharpened. Indulge me Troy. Isn’t that why you came here?”
You do like your bets Luna, Troy thought and reached for the scimitar.
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Luna slashed at him the moment a reluctant Troy unsheathed his blade. The gladiator jerked away, feet rotating on the vine covered tiles and swung upwards with the scimitar making a conscious effort to aim at the Kopis. He almost took it out of her hand.
The woman gasped and stepped left, walking confidently on familiar ground. Troy turned to watch her circling and she grimaced.
“My arm is numb.”
“Apologies,” Troy replied and Luna rushed him again. A lunge forward to force him inside the pool but Troy smacked the blade down and touched the point on her left breast over the soft leather.
Luna backed away with a wince breathing heavy.
“Dammit,” she cursed and unbuttoned her vest to check on the damage. Luna moved the fleshy orb around and then closed the vest again. “You missed?”
“I was trying not to kill you?” Troy retorted in amusement.
“I can’t use this sword,” she told him.
“It’s a difficult blade, good for hacking. Can you wield a longsword? It will give you more reach and you could surprise people.”
Luna sighed in frustration. “I used to train every day. You’d think marrying a Lanista would have given me more opportunities but it didn’t.”
“Yeah,” Troy nodded and stared at the pond. Then at the slaves standing near the pavilion. Luna’s warm hand interrupting him.
“Can I see that other sword now?” She asked hoarsely near his face and that hand slipped through the front of his breeches. Troy blinked, strong fingers getting a good grip at his meaty schlong and pulling it out after loosening the flaps.
The Kopis clattered on the tiles, Luna gasped seeing the gladiator’s uncovered fast-growing phallus and Troy caught out of the corner of his eye one of the female slaves snap her head their way. Despite the sheer yellow shawl covering her figure and the distance, Troy recognized Ziba-Ra. Mostly by her palpable disdain at his actions.
Shite!
“Mmm,” Luna murmured nigh impressed. “That’s certainly a Titan’s blade.”
“Eh,” Troy croaked feeling the woman’s mouth swallowing his throbbing manhood. Then he stopped talking.
>
>
> The mighty Troy pleasured Ba-Ramis’ wayward wife in the Marble Gardens before making his well-thought out escape from Tsuparin’s palace without a hitch. The coming night helped him slip away into the desert.
“You can use the pool Troy,” a sweaty Luna told him walking in the pond herself with a deep satisfied sigh.
“I have work in the market,” Troy grunted picking up his sword from the ground and looking about to locate his clothes and discarded armour in the semi-darkness. The slaves had lit torches in the pavilion but their light wasn’t enough to illuminate the opening.
“At this hour? Whatever. Help him out,” Luna ordered the slaves half-sunk in the waters and Ziba approached with his pants. She tossed them on his chest and Troy caught them with a grimace.
“Listen,” he whispered quickly. “I have a plan.”
“Pfft, I saw your plan. Heard the whole cursed thing also,” Ziba hissed. “Where’s Ballard?”
“Eh, about that…”
“What?”
Troy sighed. “You got to slip away and meet me at the edge of the gardens. Follow the path.”
“Why would I…? I’m not meeting with you in the gardens!”
“Keep yer darn voice low,” Troy grunted and closed his leather breeches covering his cock. “I’m risking my life here.”
“Seriously?”
“It isn’t what it looks.”
“I’ve seen animals fuck with less enthusiasm,” Ziba noted with a scowl.
“It’s… a technique. It was a dry month and I got excited—”
“By her?” Ziba asked in disgust. “What, are there no more girls left in Fu De-Gar?”
“What are you two murmuring about Troy?” Luna asked from the pond. “You know Ziba?”
“Not really,” Troy croaked and Ziba kicked him in the left shin. “A bit.”
“Be careful how you break the news to her,” Luna cautioned him. “Use your charm.”
“What news?” Ziba hissed and glared at the wincing comically gladiator.
“Get the boy,” Troy grunted grabbing her arm, Ziba slapping his face with the other. Tyeus spear! “Meet me at the path,” he managed to say and before letting her go Troy pressed the silk scarf in her flailing hands.
“What? Where…?” Ziba gasped her eyes growing. “Troy you bastard—”
“Get the boy,” Troy hissed in turn and shoved her away.
“You’ll stay in Fu De-Gar Troy?” An oblivious Luna asked sounding relaxed. “I may need to refresh my sword lessons so I can get a rematch.”
“I’ll know by morrow,” Troy replied hoarsely and stared at the shaking Ziba-Ra pleadingly afore walking away.
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“You took your sweet time,” Hermes commented sourly getting up.
“The lady wanted a sparring lesson,” Troy grunted and Hermes chuckled finding it funny.
“She’s crazy about gladiators,” Barak replied a little guarded, not privy to the jest. “Was she any good?” He asked in a lighter tone.
“Eh, yeah… Lady Luna can work a sword like the best of them,” Troy croaked glaring at the smirking Hermes.
“Hmm. She used to beat me up but I got the better of her lately,” Barak replied. “You should try me Troy.”
“Some other time. I’m drained,” Troy retorted and Hermes almost drowned himself trying to keep the chuckle in.
“Right. So, I’ll walk you back to the stables. My father will be here tomorrow. You could stay in the palace,” Barak offered.
“Just give me a couple of minutes,” Troy replied trying to think of a way to get rid of him. “To catch my breath.”
“It’s an easy path,” Barak argued. “Surely you are not that worn out?”
“You go ahead and we’ll catch up with you,” Troy insisted and Hermes stopped chuckling, his face turning solemn.
“Well, I was thinking of grabbing something to eat. Let’s have a cup. I’ll wait with you.”
“Ehm,” Troy grimaced and looked about them at the dark gardens. The moons were slowly coming up on the sky but not much light was passing through the trees and rich vegetation.
Barak stood back and stared at both of them. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter,” Troy replied tensely. “Just want to take in the scenery is all.”
A bird chirped hidden in the bushes. The moment turning awkward.
“Let’s go ahead,” Hermes offered. “We’ll return to the palace and he’ll follow in his own pace.”
“Is my sister alright?” Barak asked and looked towards the lit part of the gardens about fifty meters deeper inside the gardens.
“Of course,” Troy replied pressing his mouth.
“Barak,” Hermes intervened but the young scion stopped him with a wave of his arm.
“I’m talking with him old man,” he grunted. “Does the Titan of Novesium need a chaperone?”
“Son,” Hermes grunted.
“Your sister is fine,” Troy told him increasingly more nervous. “Just calm down Barak,” he added and Ziba-Ra came out of the side of the path carrying the little boy in her arms.
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“Where are you going?” Barak asked and she paused a hand on the sleeping boy’s head.
“He’s fallen asleep,” Ziba replied her voice strained. “Lady Luna gave me permission to get him to our quarters.”
“Alone?” Barak queried and glanced at the two sober-faced gladiators. He narrowed his eyes and took a step back a hand reaching for a scimitar he had strapped on his waist. “What are you doing Troy?”
Troy smacked his lips and looked him in the eyes. “Just walk away. Forget you’ve seen anything.”
“What?” Barak-Ki clenched his jaw, fingers lacing on the handle of his sword. “Are you insane? You’ll steal from us?”
“Ain’t yer slave Barak,” Troy warned him.
Barak unsheathed his blade. “The sound carries. I can stall you for the guards to run here,” he said and Troy shook his head. “How about we walk back to the palace and talk it through?”
“We won’t,” Troy replied sternly.
Barak grimaced and opened his mouth to yell but Hermes had the chopper out while they were talking, the gladiator’s swing of the heavy weapon cutting his words short.
Ziba’s scream piercing the quietness of the Marble Gardens and the sound of Barak’s headless body hitting the tiles.
“Head for the stables,” a heavy breathing Hermes rustled teeth clenched. “Grab the horses and come to the edge of the forest. Near the ruins of the arena.”
“Why not go for the bridge?” Troy didn’t want to leave Ziba behind after all the trouble to find her, he didn’t want to risk it.
“We aren’t crossing that bridge lad nor move through the city with her. It would be a short trip if we do,” Hermes grunted and pushed a hesitant Troy away to get him going. “I’ll hide the body and take the girl but you need to hurry. They’ll look for the lad soon and we’re the last people he was seen with.”
Act VI
-Back in Ballard-
Troy made it to the stables without problems and got their mounts out. He bid the bored stable hands there farewell and rode outside the palace’s grounds then turned west, went out of the gates and headed towards the Pits. An hour later he had reached the ruins of the arena, passing through the empty slave market and waited nervously his eyes on the forest of ebony trees for Hermes and Ziba to appear.
Two hours later they did, the night moving away and a patrol missing them for minutes. They had spotted Troy and approached to talk with him initially but a caravan arrived soon after out of the desert so the guards turned around to walk towards the west gates with them.
“I need to rest,” Ziba griped and collapsed on an upturned stone pillar, Hermes carrying the boy on his shoulders.
“Two minutes,” Troy warned and glanced at the tired gladiator.
“It’s difficult to cross the forest in the dark,” Hermes explained and glared at Ziba.
“What? You idiots murdered Lord Tsuparin’s son!” Ziba snapped, her anger spilling out. “What happened to Ballard you piece of shit?” She hissed at Troy.
“I’m sorry,” Troy blurted out taken aback. “You need to get on that horse Ziba. We can’t stay here.”
“You think I’ll come with you? Go where?”
A chastised Troy stared at Hermes for help.
“In the desert,” the gladiator said calmly.
“That’s the plan?” Ziba cried out and looked down to find a rock to hurl at Troy.
“There’s a small port at Ho-Kar Fort,” Hermes explained. “They trade with all manner of people. We take a boat from there to Lai Zel-Ka or Ta-Ne.”
“Tsuparin might intercept us and the boats stop to Fu De-Gar either way,” Troy argued.
“How about the Sopat?”
Ziba wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She had wrapped her shawl over the boy’s shoulders. “What did Ballard say, you stupid puffed-up dork?” She asked him hoarsely. “Because he must have given you instructions.”
While Troy disagreed with her description of him he did admire her courage and spirit so he let it slide. Then again she had hours to deal with the news and a child to save, he thought. Ugh. He sighed deeply. “He was dying Ziba. Didn’t say much.”
A big rock smacked him on the chest denting the armour and Troy stumbled back with a pained groan landing on his arse.
“You’ve let him die?” She hissed, eyes ogling menacingly.
“I couldn’t…” Troy cursed as he felt guilty about the whole thing already and stood up grabbing at his chest. “He told me to get you back, the boy that is. That’s what I’m struggling with these past weeks!”
“Cut the crap Troy!” Ziba snarled. “I’ve witnessed your struggles firsthand!”
“It was part of the plan damn it!” Troy snapped irate. “I did it for you!”
“You fucked Luna for me? Give me that sword Hermes,” Ziba hissed.
“You’re not getting a blade lass,” Hermes retorted and Ziba groaned in frustration afore turning her eyes on the miffed Troy.
“What were his words?” She asked.
“I told you,” Troy murmured.
“Tell me again,” Ziba countered. “Ballard never uttered a word with no reason.”
Troy worked his tongue over his front teeth, puffed out at the end of it and stared at Hermes for help.
“Don’t look at me,” the old gladiator told him. “It’s your gods darn plan. I'm still waiting for it to kick in.”
“Fine, he said I should bring him home,” Troy said tiredly. “Or something.”
“Home where?” Hermes asked a little perturbed.
“Back in Ballard,” Ziba said sadly and hugged her torso with both arms. The outfit she had on not sufficient for the chilly night. “That’s in Lesia. Eh,” she gasped and then started sobbing, her body shuddering violently.
Hermes breathed in through the nose pursing his wrinkled mouth even more and cast his eye on the numb Troy austerely.
“Lesia is east,” he reminded him.
“I know,” Troy grunted.
“We could see if there’s another way,” Hermes continued and moved the boy carefully wrapping his maimed hand around its body.
Troy rubbed his face with both hands hard and then stared at the crying Ziba.
“Give her a moment?” He asked the older gladiator that had moved the boy on the mule.
“No,” Hermes rejoined gruffly. “Get her on that saddle.”
> Troy, Hermes and Ziba-Ra with the Jackal’s son in tow traveled west following the coastal road. The desert reaching all the way to the shores after the first couple of days and nights, the terrain leading them to a narrow strip of land full of rocks and clusters of thorny cactuses. The turn after it named Mist’s Cries Coast but the small cape known as Luzi Ho-Kar. The land of the ‘Drunk Beings’, mostly due to the heavy production and consumption of the viscous milk-colored wine the locals were famous for.
>
> And their goats of course.
The goat gawked at the sprawled on the ground Troy menacingly.
With a groan of frustration the gladiator rolled on the gravel-infested terrain and jumped on his feet again. He eyed Hermes and Ziba still on their mounts, the latter commenting sourly.
“Use your thick head next time. You might knock it out cold.”
Troy clenched his jaw and circled the sneaky goat, dagger in hand. The animal snorted and lithely jumped around repositioning itself and then launched forward again. Furious as a desert imp and spry as a rabbit. Troy swung with the blade, got it on the hardened forehead slicing a piece of keratinous horn away but lost the blade in the process.
Then the goat smacked him on the stomach and doubled him over. Troy jerked aside as the animal swung his horns to get him again and kicked it right at the mouth sending it tumbling down. Cursing under his breath he stood up, retrieved his dagger and walked up to the stunned animal, murder in his eyes.
He grabbed the whining goat by the throat and glanced at Ziba in frustration, the Lorian former slave pointing a finger behind him. Troy turned his head around, spotted the tanned Cofol with the wild hair over a sullen face looking at him and smacked his dry lips.
“Who are you?” He growled.
“Dudu,” the local said, worn-out sandals on his dirty feet and a long crooked staff on his shoulders. “Who are you?”
“Troy?” The gladiator retorted and heard the clopping of many feet as about a hundred goats appeared behind Dudu.
Blehhehehe
Blaahhehee
BLEEHEHEHE!
“What are you doing to the goat Troy?” Dudu asked when the goats calmed down and Troy got up releasing the one he’d captured.
“I thought it was a wild one,” Troy mumbled and sheathed the dagger on his waist.
“You’re a goat hunter? People hunt goats now?” Dudu queried curious and used his left hand to bring a flask he had hanging from his neck to his mouth. Tipped it and glugged down its contents while waiting for Troy’s answer.
“I’m a gladiator,” Troy replied scrunching his face annoyed.
“You hunt people. Hmm. People don’t do that around here,” he warned him calmly.
“We’re looking for Luzi Ho-Kar fort and the port,” Troy grunted less calm.
“It’s an old tower,” Dudu corrected him in the same serene manner. “The fort. A village around it, some farms. Goats.”
“Right,” Troy showed him his teeth in a friendly snarl. “The port…”
“Not much of it,” Dudu cut him off and whistled for the goats to gather as they had spread out too far. The one that had escaped Troy giving him a bump on the leg afore jumping away. “But boats come, bring stuff. Some ships. Buy cheese, Hokar wine.”
“Is the village far?” Troy asked.
“An hour on foot.”
“I’m looking to get a ship out of the Peninsula.”
“Where to?”
“Lesia?”
“Where’s that?” The goat herder asked and sat down cross-legged.
“I’m in a hurry,” Troy grunted and sighed when Dudu just shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “It’s far to the east. Like across Eplas and beyond.”
“Rain Minas,” Dudu said and closed his eyes, arms resting on his staff he’d positioned across his legs.
“What’s that?” A perturbed Troy queried this time.
“Where you need to go,” Dudu replied his eyes closed as if in deep meditation, nose wiggling once to get rid of an annoying large fly that had landed on it.
Troy nodded unsure and looked at the others, the small boy watching the goats fascinated being the happiest of their group. The gladiator turned towards the goat herder again but Dudu had fallen asleep and offered him no more help.
> Troy reached Luzi Ho-Kar ten days or thereabouts after escaping Fu De-Gar. He boarded a ship there four weeks later. Apparently ships rarely stopped at the small village port. It was a pirate ship, but its name the gladiator didn’t remember years later. He remembered the old captain though, an unsavory fellow named Horace and his one-eyed dog.
>
> Horace eagerly agreed to transport them to Rain Minas with the promise that Troy would vouch for him with the local authorities. Troy assured him that he would. He shared some tales of the arena and the mighty Chiliad with the colorful crew. A Gish named Abrix took a liking to young Emerson. He showed him how to tie nautical knots and drink rum but the latter his mother forbid. She hunted the Gish around the boat much to the crew’s amusement and beat him senseless a couple of times until Abrix promised to stop.
>
> It was an uneventful journey other than that and losing a couple of men from the crew.
>
> They had died in their sleep, face turned white as snow and their blood to water, but Horace had reassured Ziba-Ra it wasn’t a matter of some decease spreading about. ‘Yer not in any danger lass,’ the old pirate declared obviously well-versed in medical matters and his dog had barked once in agreement backing him up. ‘Folk just up and die sometimes. It happens in all ships,’ Horace had added and that was that.
>
> So they had tossed the sailors overboard to feed the sharks following the ship and forgot about the whole affair. The first time Ziba-Ra witnessed a Zilan she fainted. It wasn’t her fault. Apparently locals had been impressed by the pretty former slave that could speak Imperial and had used too much ‘magic’ on her. Hermes who suspected the alluring locals all along felt vindicated by the incident and Troy decided to put the matter to a ‘live’ test which infuriated Ziba-Ra even more.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Asmudius
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> The Titan of Novesium
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> -an honest account-
>
> Chapter V
>
> ‘A port in Wetull’
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>