ZHANNA

775DY

Morndas, 33rd of Anovo, Spring

Darkness. Her father. Her sister. Swords being drawn. Devils clad in crimson armour with the faces of men. Fire. Choking black smoke. A child with blood trickling down his shirt. Black eyes. Her mother on Arisha’s birthing bed, and later, lying dead in the same bed. Her mother's necklace in a pool of blood. The same necklace, but drawn tight against her throat, choking the life from her. The whip is cracking. Her skin breaking, boiling, melting. A reptilian face. A sacred place. Torment unrelenting. She was failing. She was dying. Her sister in chains. Endless muddy plains. Ice-cold drops drew the strength from her veins. A flash of steel, a broken wheel, looking ahead, a mother’s seal.

And Zhanna awoke on her 20th birthday.

The plan had been to take her and Arisha to a nearby town, Logrosk, through a mountain pass. Her father had even hired a carriage in advance, to take them and their friends there. She wondered where Titiana, Nina, and Sasha were now. She wondered if their fate was worse than hers. They probably haven’t gotten any children killed. She thought. She remembered the young man her sister had been courting, and remembered him taking a sword to the belly in the fighting.

Emir was standing over her, a clawed hand on her shoulder shaking her as she leaned against a damp tree in the little patch of forest. She rubbed her eyes and began to get up with sighs and grunts. Emir was looking around, whiskers twitching, alert and sharp. She felt further from that description than she ever had. Her legs were wet, and her hands blackened with mud. She stood, accepting Emir’s helping hand, and breathed steadily. They saw now that they were in some kind of valley, and further down near its bottom was a river lined with bushes, and a dusty road leading east and west. She wished she could see the mountains again. The lights in the clouds above glowed yellow today. In truth, she never understood what that meant. Perhaps it meant a choice was ahead.

Emir set off down the side of the valley from the trees, heading for a bush covered in violet berries. She was slow to follow him, and the ground was slick and threatened to send her tumbling down. Emir had taken off his adjusted-fit boots and allowed his paws to feel the earth. He preferred it that way. His claws could dig into even the most slippery surface, meaning he had no trouble getting down. The river was small, but seemed to have burst its banks thanks to the rains. Zhanna sat on the grass and edged her way down with both hands, trying to let the mud slide off them as she went. The roots of the bushes were drowning in water. Emir stood ankle-deep as he picked at them. He grimaced as he sniffed them, then threw them into the water. “What is it?” She shouted down at him. “Poisonous. To both of us.” He replied. Zhanna knew a few things were poisonous only to him, like the chocolate and coffee grown on the islands in the Sea of Izimer. That was what her people called the huge gulf that the continent of Terranos curled around, like a crescent moon.

Later, they stood on the flat dirt road down by the water. Emir looked at her, blinking slowly, lacking sleep.

“Which way, Zhanna?” He asked, voice hoarse. She looked behind her. That way led back to her mountainous home, to the fields of battle, to the Doran frontline. She looked ahead, which would lead her to the capital city of her sworn enemy. Zhanna thought in silence as the breeze washed over her.

“East, back the way we came. I have to find my sister.” She decided. Emir closed his eyes, full of foreboding.

“That way is crawling with Doran soldiers. We’d be better off heading to Doros, your sister is likely on her way there now.”

“And if you’re wrong? If she’s being kept in some Doran camp as their entertainment?” She asked, her fists clenching in anger. It would be her sister’s birthday too. Two birthdays, one day. That was thought of as lucky in her culture, but that day was the anniversary of their mother’s death too. Zhanna always focused on the celebrations as hard as she could, to avoid the sadness and creeping dread. They always visited her mother’s grave the day before – the last day her mother smiled.

“I understand why you want to, but it’s a bad idea.” He said, stepping forward, concern written across his face. “Do you intend to take on a whole Doran century?” She shook her head in response.

“I have to find her, I can always talk my way in, and then get her out. My people could make a push, a surprise attack, and then she could be dead.” She suggested. Emir stepped closer to her.

“If you talk your way in there, you’ll end up meeting the same fate. And besides, she could be on the road, or in another city, in another town. Our best bet is Doros, but even still.” He implored her.

“I don’t care. I’m going back, by myself if I have to. Even Arisha is dead, I’ll find the men who killed my father and my sister. Good luck Emir, I hope we meet again someday.” She managed, struggling to get the words out, away from him. For a few moments, she walked alone, but Emir soon caught up. “I am not going to let you roam the wilderness by yourself, our gods forbid it. I will help you in your quest.” He said. Zhanna, being honest with herself, was relieved. “Well, thank you. But I don’t need protection, but it’s always nice to have a good ally.” She said, before frowning at his stomach. “How’s your wound by the way?” As she asked, he lifted his tunic to show a patch of blue paste over his furred muscles. “Ah, good.” She said, but noticed he still had a bit of a limp.

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They walked in silence for a long while. Eventually, they left the valley and the road to forage for some food as they walked. They searched far and wide, but the wilderness seemed to be picked clean. They passed into another small forest. Emir crouched down at the corpse of a deer. He pulled out an arrow and looked it over. The head was jagged greenish metal, with barbs on the shaft. “Lizardman arrow.” He said with worry creeping into his voice. He stood and limped on, clutching it.

When the trees cleared, they saw a large apple tree, and both exclaimed with joy. Suddenly Emir put his furred hand over Zhanna’s mouth. He pointed downward and she looked over. In the grass, beneath the shadow of the leaves, was a lizardman. He was lying down, hands clasped about his chest and eyes closed. Emir crouched onto his haunches and whispered to Zhanna.

“Let’s go around, the camp may be nearby.” He said, but she was already stalking forward. “Zhanna!”

“He’s got a coin pouch, we need it if we’re gonna survive.” She replied as she crept along. Soon, she was at the Lizard’s side, reaching for his pouch. It was on his belt and tied with a string loop. She slowly reached toward it, and the knife sheathed on his other hip. She took the knife with ease, but the gold purse was trickier. Zhanna decided it was best to cut it free, and she did. It fell a couple of inches to the hard ground, causing loose coins to scatter. All of a sudden the Lizardman’s eyes opened, and Zhanna scrambled to put the knife to his throat and a knee on his chest. His crossed arms were now restrained beneath her.

“Move and you’re dead, Lizard.” She said, before realizing she was speaking Rodin, and the creature looked at her with confusion. She tried her broken Doranic next. “Do not move, or deaths.” She commanded. Emir came over and crouched near the Lizardman’s large head, looking down at him with fearsome eyes. Zhanna narrowed her eyes. “We take the coins. You do not shout for Birdmen.” She said, pausing to remember her words. Emir shook his head and mouthed the word for Lizardmen. “-Lizardmen.” She said finally. Thankfully, the creature spoke back in a broken Doranic of his own.

“No. I not tell anyone, I go peace.” He said with caution, eyes full of fear. She shook her head.

“How we know you tell… Truth?” She asked, and the Lizardman tried to seem brighter in his voice.

“No. I not like violence, I carry knife for tallank.” He replied. Zhanna looked up at Emir in confusion. He shrugged but tried to remember.

“I think it’s something to do with wood, I don’t know this tribe.” Emir said, looking around, until he spotted a bag of arrow shafts without heads, freshly made. “Ah, he’s a fletcher. The knife is for whittling.”

“I thought he was a hunter? That deer.” She asked, and Emir shrugged.

“Must have been someone else. Anyway, we should get going soon.” He cautioned. She looked back down at the Lizardman.

“I am wizard. I know spell.” She made a strange sign with her hands and whispered a made-up word. “I cast spell on you. If you tell others, your throat burn until you dies.” She said as threateningly as she could manage. Despite her uncertainty, the creature she sat on looked terrified. Emir seemed impressed.

She began to stand, taking the knife and collecting the gold, and backed away down the hill. Emir followed. The lizardman sat up but dared not move.

“That was a good idea. I couldn’t think of how to be sure he would keep things quiet.” He said with a smile.

“I hope he believed me. I think I make a convincing wizard. Some people say red hair means you have magical blood.”

“Among cat-folk, it is said that those with two different eyes are those with magic. I only knew one mage in my time. We have less of them since most of us cannot read, and we teach spells verbally.”

“What was he like?” She asked.

“She, was a strange woman. I danced with her at a funeral once, and she made a lot of strange jokes about the dead man. He was my uncle, and she some distant cousin.” He answered, eyes looking at the sky, lost in memory. She looked at him with quizzical eyes.

“You dance at funerals? How strange.”

“Well, as I told you, the Nightlands are an eternal celebration. It makes sense to create it ourselves for a night.” He replied. Zhanna nodded in agreement as they reached the foot of the hill. In the distance, they saw the spiked wooden walls of the Lizardman camp.

“Damn, forgot to pick those apples.” She said, but Emir pointed at a distant roadsign in the other direction, just out of sight of the camp.

“We are only a few miles from a town, Florenum. I think it’s a big one. We’ll find food there.”

“How can you see that from here? I forgot cat-eyes were so good... Won’t they arrest us if we’re slaves without a master?” She asked.

“We can tear off some of our breeches, make them into little neck warmers to cover them, until we find some cloaks.” He declared. Zhanna raised an eyebrow.

“Seems a little obvious to me, but I suppose if we keep to the shadows, we’ll be alright.” She said, and they marched on, ducking low and heading towards the road. They seemed to get by without incident. Now out of sight, they marched on to Florenum.