Having a tangible body is a weakness. Sheela was reminded of that fact in the most horrific way. Through the fog of sleep, she felt Solon’s metal hand wrap around her ankle, but before she could process what was about to happen an unholy sensation shot through her entire body. Her nerves were lit ablaze with unwelcomed tingles, making her jolt as if she were stuck by lightning. The witch’s eyes shot open as she yelped, immediately looking down at her feet. Solon was sitting, holding her by her left ankle and raking his fingers across the sole of her foot, with the smuggest, most mocking grin plastered on his face.
“Morning Sheela. Sleeeep weeell?” He said, drawing out the words.
Before his fingers could rake across foot again, the witch propped herself up with her arms and kicked the soldier with her free leg, not holding back any force. Solon however was faster, blocking her kick with his metal arm. Sheela gritted her teeth, feeling the staticky tingling crawl up her spine, making her hair stand on end.
“Fuck you, you…” she hissed to herself through gritted teeth and eyes closed shut, rubbing her right foot.
“Get up. The sun is shining. Zeg’ already got us breakfast." said the soldier, jumping out of the wagon and walking over to the beastfolk boy. The kid was cracking eggs that he had found in nearby birds’ nests onto a flat rock placed over the fire.
Sheela yawned, joining the two of her companions sitting around the fire. The eggs were partially dripping from the rock, as it did not have time to properly heat up before Zeg’ started cracking them over it. ‘Stuck to a random rock’ styled eggs was not the worst breakfast Solon had in his life, but it was the first questionably cooked meal he had since he got stuck in the desert. In his opinion, half burnt-half runny eggs, sunny side up, from an unknown species of bird, was an upgrade from eating raw desert lizards and scorpions.
“Not used to the cold?” the man asked, looking up at the witch wrapped in cloth from the wagon like a Bedouin.
“Yeah. The desert gets cold at night, but I’m not used to days being chilly too. This is a different kind of cold.” Sheela replied, watching the mercenary use a rock to sharpen some sticks to use as utensils.
“It is autumn and morning. Makes sense.” said Solon while handing each of them a pointy stick.
Sheela was a bit apprehensive about their breakfast but hunger gnawing at her insides cleared that sensation pretty easily. She stabbed the mushy egg with her stick, pulling a piece of it off the rock and bringing it up to her mouth. The flavour was nothing remarkable, the texture making her face scrunch up in disgust as she swallowed without chewing and shuddered.
“Ugh…”
Between the human mercenary and the beastfolk boy were very few differences in the way they devoured their breakfast. In terms of culinary delights, meat on a stick was the pinnacle of beastfolk culinary achievements and remained on that pedestal for centuries.
As for the human, if he is anything like the human soldiers of her world, then he would not have trouble eating anything as long as it provided sustenance and didn’t outright poison him.
With breakfast finished, Solon took the flat cooking rock with his metal arm and flung it like a throwing disc in the direction from which they came, while Zeg’ whistled and clapped at the incredible distance that the rock was thrown.
Sheela was still sitting by the fire, warming her hands and feet, while the worten grazed on patches of grass strewn about the mostly sandy ground.
“Ready to hit the road? Hopefully, the kid’s tribe will at least point us in the direction of a village or something. I have no idea where the fuck I am in relation to where I was if I’m being honest.” Solon turned to Sheela, walking over to the fire and kicking sand and dirt over it to put it out.
While he helped the witch to her feet, the beastfolk kid suddenly let out a screech, causing both of them to suddenly turn around. Zeg’ was standing a few feet away from them, pointing towards the start of the plates, at a dust cloud moving towards them.
Solon closed his right eye so the left one could do its job and zoom in on the cloud.
Without a warning, he grabbed the kid and tossed him like a sack into the wagon.
“What is going on?” Sheela asked.
“We have company. Seems we weren’t disguising our tracks as well as we thought. I can’t say for sure who those dudes are, but they aren’t rushing over to eat eggs stuck to a rock, that’s for sure. Get in.” the mercenary replied.
The tall witch did not think twice before hopping in the wagon. Zeg’ was already at the reigns, trying to get the animals to move, but they did not seem to comply. He tugged and waved the reigns, yelling at the worten as they kept grazing, making the kid grow more and more frustrated by the second, glancing over his shoulder at the dust cloud that was fast approaching.
“Fuck this.” Solon growled, grabbing the sheet off Sheela and swirling it while holding one of the edges until it rolled itself into a makeshift whip.
“We used to do this back in high school.” He smiled briefly while swill swirling the now rolled-up sheet and walking up to the front of the wagon.
“Move you fucking deadbeats! Mush! Hya!” yelled the soldier, using the rolled-up as a makeshift whip to smack the animals in their rear.
The effects were immediate as the animals stopped eating and began moving, going from a light jog to somewhat of a gallop, tugging on the wagon so abruptly that it made Solon lose his footing and fall backwards onto Sheela.
“Get off me.” She groaned, pushing the man off her thighs, before turning to look at their pursuers in the distance.
“Think we’ll get away from them?”
“Doubt it. I’m aiming for us to reach deeper into the trees and hope to juke them in there. They are faster than this carriage, that’s for certain.” he replied, sitting up.
The carriage moved at what Solon could only assume was top speed, but the incline of the plate and heavy wagon meant they were not moving as fast as he would’ve liked.
“Sheela, throw some magic at them. Rocks and shit, I don’t know.” He turned to her and yelled, looking around the wagon for anything that could be used as a weapon, but besides big pieces of cloth, several empty bags and an empty crate, there wasn’t anything.
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“I can’t.” replied the witch, causing Solon to give her a puzzled look.
She sighed, not even having to hear the words to know the questioning look on his face.
“During my tenure as Queen of the Dunes, before I got trapped in that vase, I fused most of my mana with the desert itself, making it basically an extension of myself. Hence why I could use it easily, even though my mana has barely recovered since I got my mortal body back!”
With a sigh the mercenary just facepalmed himself with his good hand, nodding as if this surprise was to be expected. His hand slipped from his forehead, across his face and to his chin, where he rubbed his beard in contemplation, occasionally glancing at their pursuers.
The group chasing after them was now close enough that he could see the riders without the need to use his left eye’s zoom function.
“Well, I’ve dug myself out of deeper shit,” Solon mumbled, grabbing the piece of cloth and rolling it back up.
Sheela took deep breaths, focusing and channelling her mana, not wanting to rely solely on the mercenary for protection and definitely not wanting to be back in the gladiatorial arena’s holding cell. Shouting and hollering came from the group behind them, the absolutely furious thugs pushing their mounts to their limit, the animals wheezing and huffing as they ran.
They encircled the wagon, waving clubs and swords at the human, trying to stab or knock him off. Several of them armed with spear-like weapons, tried stabbing Solon, but the soldier proved too quick to hit.
Despite the chaos, the mercenary remained pretty calm, avoiding getting hit pretty easily. He managed to grab one of the spears and yanked it from the hands of the bandit. With a mechanical arm, this proved incredibly easy. The thug yelled something while falling off his mount right under the wagon’s back wheel, causing the carriage to bump a bit as it ran over him.
Solon, now armed with a spear had an easier time warding off the attackers since they had swords, which meant in terms of the range they were at a disadvantage.
Sheela finally mustered enough mana to help out, using simple spells like mana blasts to knock several more thugs off their saddle. Realizing their current approach isn’t bearing any fruit, several bandits pulled out rope nets from their bags, a typical tool for slavers and their hired thugs. The witch feeling exhaustion began to overtake her, didn’t pay enough attention to notice the net thrown her way with surprising accuracy.
“Shit! Solon!” Sheela cried out as she struggled to free herself without getting tangled up even more. The net was attached to a rope held by one of the thugs, just waiting for his prey to get fully stuck so he could yank her out of the wagon.
The mercenary was quicker. Before Sheela even cried out for him, his left hand grabbed the pulling rope while using the spearhead to cut it. As soon as the witch was free, Solon tossed the net into the crowd, causing several mounts to get their legs tangled in the rope and tumble head over heel onto the ground, sending their riders flying out of the saddle or crushing them beneath the weight of their mounts.
“Where’s the fucking treeline?!” Solon yelled out, turning to see how far up the hill they’d gotten, feeling like they’d been in pursuit for far too long.
“Zeg’ get those animals moving. I don’t care if you have to stick your foot up their asses, I want them flying up this fucking hill like they’re sponsored by Red Bull!”
Though not understanding the human’s language, the beastfolk boy understood what the man was telling him to do. He began yelling at the wortens and when that didn’t work, he took a piece of cloth like Solon and began wailing on their behinds. That proved to be as effective as it was the first time. The treeline was fast approaching, so the boy pulled on the reigns, slowing the carriage down just enough to avoid ramming the entire thing into the first tree in front of them. His quick thinking was the bandits’ oversight, as they did not slow down, pushing their mounts even faster, thinking that the worten pulling the carriage had finally exhausted themselves. Almost half of them either welcomed the painful embrace of the tree trunks they rode into or had their mounts trip over themselves in an attempt to avoid collision with the trees.
“These thugs just don’t know when to quit.” Sheela hissed between gritted teeth, wiping sweat from her forehead while channelling what remaining mana she had.
Aiming spells while weaving between trees proved a tough challenge even for an experienced mage like her. Some blasts hit the attackers but most seared trees and branches.
The forest quickly became denser and denser, the carriage bouncing wildly more often as its wheels flew over thick roots sticking from the soil. Finally, one of the wheels met its match, getting stuck on a particularly large root and getting torn off the wagon, causing the entire carriage to flip over on the side. Solon grabbed Zeg’ and jumped out together with Sheela before the wagon could flip over on top of them. Sheela was slightly disoriented from the tumble while the soldier was already on his feet, checking the kid for any damage, flipping him around as he held him.
“Sheela, take the kid and go. I’ll try to hold them off.” the mercenary said, shoving the boy into her arms as what remained of their mounter pursuers quickly approached.
Without a word, the former genie nodded and took off running with Zeg’ tossed over her right shoulder, leaving the man behind. The two didn’t make it more than a few meters, as a spear blew past them, knocking the closest banding off his saddle. One after the other, more and more came flying from every direction, hitting their targets with lethal accuracy. Soon not even a handful of them remained. Deciding to cut their losses, the survivors halted their pursuit and began riding back out of the woods, as spears managed to take down a few more of them while they fled.
Sheela stopped head in her tracks as a tall, panther-looking beastman appeared from the thicket, pointing the tip of his spear right at her.
“Solon,” she called out.
“I know, I know.” replied the man, finding himself in the same situation as her, staring down the yellow eyes of the beastfolk in front of him.
They were surrounded as the entire hunting party emerged from the treetops and brushes one by one. Solon was honestly feeling quite tired of meeting one hostile group of people after another in such a short span of time, but he kept his hands raised and walked backwards towards Sheela, making sure not to make any sudden moves that would get him stabbed.
Zeg’ wormed himself free from Sheela’s grasp, waving his hands and talking to the beastfolk in their native tongue. After a few more seconds of suspense and intense staring, the group lowered their spears.
“What’s he saying?” the mercenary whispered, leaning towards the witch so she could hear better.
Her pointy ear twitched a bit from how close he was.
“I don’t know.”
“He’s saying you mean no harm.” came from the back of the group.
An older-looking beastman, wearing hunting garments that consisted of leather clothes decorated with leaves and small teeth, approached them. His fur was dark, nearly pitch black, with a few patches of grey mostly around his snout and eyes. On his belt was a shining, almost translucent stone that would flicker every time either of them spoke.
“You saved this boy, have you not?” the man asked, walking over to the front of the group.
“I apologize for the spear-tipped welcome, our tribe is not exactly on good terms with outside folk. My name is Tharzin, I am the current head of this tribe.”
Tharzin patted Zeg’ on the head, extending his hand towards Solon and Sheela.
“This is how you hairless folk facilitate a good greeting, correct?”
Solon shook the chief’s hand without much hesitation and Sheela did the same, though with less enthusiasm.
“Phew, you guys sure came in a clutch.” said the mercenary, starting off the sentence with a quick whistle that made the beastman’s ears twitch.
On closer inspection Thazrin seemed to be a grizzled but honest individual, his fur interrupted by occasional scars, each sure to hold a hunting tale worth hearing. His handshake was firm, which seemed to be enough for Solon to make a good first impression of the man.
“Those thugs will not be returning after you, that I can assure you. You are in beastfolk territory now, these woods are our home. Come, you must be tired, you sure look like you are. The desert is kind to none, be they beast or man.” Tharzin patted the soldier on his metal shoulder, almost as if to inspect it, before ushering both of them to follow the hunters back to the tribe’s home.