Chapter 6

Shenanigans

Shamil furrowed her eyebrows as she studied the ground before her. She would need to proceed with caution if she was going to make this work. A tiny bead of sweat trickled down her neck despite the chilly air that hung heavy over the camp. They had only just entered the mountain pass. The true cold was still a day or two of travel ahead of them.

“Sometime this day, little one.” Riza hissed teasingly, “Or do you yield?”

The lizard woman sat cross-legged in the dirt straight across from Shamil, her slitted eyes reflecting the light of the nearby campfire. Shamil cursed to herself as she ran through all of her moves again. This game of stones was not going well. Curse these lizardfolk rules. It also didn’t help that Cretin was practically breathing down her neck as she tried to decide.

“Would you cut that out?!” She snapped at him, trying to shoo his big, hairy face away with her tiny hand, “Your breath’s almost as bad as Arv’s after lamprey pie night…” Her words were mirthful, not cruel, and Cretin chuckled as he leaned back a bit. The sound was like dozens of rocks tumbling around in an empty barrel.

“I told you. Never agree to lizardfolk rules.” He muttered, “Hilda and I learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Well, shit.” Shamil spat into the dirt, “Either I yield, or you beat me next move, anyway!” She clambered to her feet, and even standing at her full height, she had to crane her neck up to look at Riza, who still sat calmly on the ground. Her reptilian eyes glittered with mirth as she held a hand out.

Shamil grumbled as she reached up to untie one of her buns of hair. It fell down the side of her face, black strands blocking out the firelight and covering just one of her flushed cheeks. At least that was something. She fumbled at her belt for her knife.

“Still don’t understand why you can’t just bet silver like the rest of us,”

She chose a lock of her hair at random. With a quick tug, she cut a modest length free from her head and held it out to Riza.

“Your silver brings me no strength.”

Riza shrugged her shoulders as she bound the lock of hair with a cord.

“You should’ve seen the fit Zarl threw when she won his hair. We practically had to hold him down!” Cretin bellowed.

“Did NOT!” Zarl objected, his voice cracking in indignation from the treetops above. He was lounging on a tree branch as he studied the game.

“Ahhh, so that’s why you had that strange cowlick for half of boot camp.”

Shamil grinned wickedly. Zarl gave her a pointed glare and turned his attention away to the other side of the camp, muttering something under his breath in Goblin.

Shamil didn’t feel any particular way about losing a lock of hair. She just didn’t like losing games. The hair didn’t really matter. In fact, losing hair to Riza’s collection almost seemed like a rite of passage for their strange, little squadron. She watched as Riza deftly attached the small tail of hair to a loop on her belt. It joined the ranks with several others, each immediately recognizable to Shamil’s keen eyes.

There was the beautiful, silvery blue of Valdora, braided in a simple pattern and tied with fine thread. Hilda’s bright ginger curls were twisted tight and decorated with metal beads. A tiny braid of Elwin’s short, blond hair was nearly engulfed by the wiry, haphazard bundle of Cretin’s mane that hung next to it. Similarly, a small shiny lock of obsidian black hair from Zarl was overshadowed by the brilliant auburn of Neyra and Elle’s contribution.

Neyra had been the first to offer her hair to Riza freely, no bet required. That seemed to perplex the lizard woman to no end. However, she clearly understood once Neyra unveiled one of her own strange collections…feathers. Shamil smiled at the memory. It turned out that Riza and Neyra were quite the kindred spirits. Neyra was almost overjoyed at the prospect of her hair joining Riza’s collection.

Shamil grunted as she expertly tied her hair back into its proper style. It never felt natural to have it hanging loose like that.

“Oh, no…Shamil! If you can’t beat her, then no one can!” Elivera called from across the campfire. She sat perched on a rock near Arv. He hunched over the cook pot, large spoon in hand, busy stirring their evening meal.

“What can I say?” Shamil shrugged and sauntered over to where Arv worked, peering into the pot with curious eyes, “How’s it coming over here?”

Arv just grunted and bent his head down closer to the pot, carefully adding a pinch of some herbs to the concoction. Cooking always made the lad focus, and there was no getting through to him when he focused. The stakes were especially high for this meal. Zarl had shot a couple rabbits during his scouting duties today, (Shamil was fairly certain that it was the first thing the fella ever did that Arv actually liked) and Arv was being extra careful to use their bounty properly. It took some extra time to roast, but the shredded meat was a welcome addition to the boiled grain mixture that they usually made for their evening meals.

“Smells amazing,” Elle remarked, patting her brother on the arm, “Ma always said you had a gift for it.”

At that comment, Arv finally turned his head and smiled.

“Well, it ain’t fish.” He muttered, tapping the spoon on the side of the pot, “But it’ll have to do!”

Shamil smiled as she noticed the blush on his green cheeks. Arv got all flustered any time you tried to compliment his cookin’. But just as she was about to tease him about it, she heard something odd.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I’m telling you, he won’t do it!”

The muffled voice came from nearby. Whoever said it was obviously trying to reign in their frustration. It took her a moment to place who it belonged to. Elwin. Sure enough, a few moments later, the half-elven woman ducked out of Valdora’s tent, her face dour. What was that about?

Kaida came out a moment later, followed by Valdora himself. Shamil giggled internally at the thought of the three of them hunched in that tent. Their travel shelters were a far cry from their tents back at the main army encampment. Even the ‘command tent’ was barely larger than what the rest of them had. It was hardly the place for a proper meeting.

“She’s been getting more and more tense the closer we get to those mountains…” Elle muttered, keeping her eyes pointedly away from Elwin as she came to sit by the fire. Shamil covertly nodded as she got out her mess kit. Arv scooped up a portion for her and all the others who made their way to the fire.

Cretin was among the first in line, holding out his tin plate eagerly. He had been pestering Arv about how long it would take just before wandering over to watch her lose her game with Riza. He had grown quite fond of the lad’s cooking. And, to Shamil’s surprise, so had she!

Another strange sound came from the cluster of tents and drifted towards the fire. It was a sound that she, Arv, and Elivera were all quite accustomed to…but one that the rest of the squadron didn’t quite know what to make of yet. That sound, of course, was Neyra’s yawning. It was impossible to describe, but Shamil supposed it was a bit like a cross between an infant child and a wounded cat. It was never exactly the same every time, but it was always comically loud. Neyra was a deep sleeper, and she insisted (always with a red face) that she needed to make that kind of noise in order to wake her mind up properly.

Soon, her friend came stumbling out of the little tent she shared with Elivera, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms. Neyra shuffled up to the fire, her voice still croaky from sleep,

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“To what?”

“Sleeping like a soldier.” She muttered, nodding in thanks to Arv as he handed her a bowl of dinner.

“Bah! You’ll grow accustomed, little miss.” Hilda said between bites of supper, “And soon you’ll be able to sleep at the drop of a hat just like the rest of us!”

She elbowed Cretin as she said it. The beast of a man was the most skilled at falling asleep quickly. Shamil remembered Neyra had timed it at less than a minute once before. She was also fairly certain that Neyra was trying to figure out the secret to his success.

“I just wish I didn’t need a nap in order to make it through first watch.” She muttered sheepishly, “It’s pathetic.”

“Nah, it’s cute.” Shamil offered with a smirk, though she didn’t mean it strictly as reassurance. She let her gaze drift over to Zarl and Arv as she said it. The goblin had stopped mid bite and his face softened in agreement. But he wisely kept the expression cool and measured, because Arv was right there glaring at him. His orc eyes seemed to say, Just try saying it out loud, buddy. See what happens. Of course, Neyra didn’t notice any of that. Instead, she punched Shamil in the arm and scrunched her face up at her. That just made her look even cuter.

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Riza mused after a lull in the campfire conversation. She had finished her meal and was now idly running her fingers through the plaits of hair at her belt. Arv’s eyes widened in shock and he nearly dropped his bowl. Zarl choked on his bite of food. Neyra just looked at Riza questioningly.

“About?” Elle asked, one eyebrow raised. Riza turned to look at Elwin, who sat near the edge of their gathered group, obviously trying to stay distant.

“Why do you grow so ill-tempered as we approach your homelands?”

Ah, yes. That. Not the other thing.

Elwin rolled her eyes and turned to face the group with a small huff. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed to slits, and she sat her bowl down to the side.

“Fine,” she spat, though the venom was quickly leaving her voice, replaced with only an almost-yearning kind of sadness, “I didn’t exactly leave home on the best of terms. As soon as those first reports about the shadow came far enough north to reach me, I knew I needed to join the fight. I tried to talk some sense into the man, tried to get him to let me go with his blessing…”

Arv looked at her with a curious expression as she spoke, seemingly lost in thought. His mouth kept mouthing the word Nero over and over.

“Stubborn man left me with no choice but t–”

“WAIT.” Arv bellowed suddenly, sending some nearby birds into the air with fright, “Is Lord Nero your Father?!”

Neyra physically put her face in her palm as the rest of the group groaned and chuckled. Poor Elwin looked absolutely exasperated as she reached both hands up to rub at her temples.

“Astutely noted, brother.” Elivera said with a grin. Arv sputtered and waved his arms in the air as he met the squad’s amused looks.

“What?! I feel like that could have been made clearer!” He protested indignantly.

“Anyway,” Elwin continued in a tired, strained voice, “My father never really knew what to do with me. Ever. I don’t think any noble house really knows what to do with their bastard children…”

“You’re illegitimate?” Shamil asked, genuinely surprised at the revelation. That certainly explained Elwin’s reluctance to talk about her background. And it explained the tension that she seemed to carry as of late.

“Yes. And as such, I’m not really his heir. Not officially, at least. It’s not like I was expected to take over the house someday! So I didn’t understand why he was putting up such a fight over me leaving. He said…things. And I said some things. And needless to say, our parting wasn’t pleasant.”

She looked down at the ground, shuffling her feet awkwardly in the dirt.

“I don’t regret leaving home. I believe in our army’s purpose. I believe in what we’re doing here. But I do regret how I left. And now I’m worried about what we’ll find when we get there.” She turned her gaze upward towards the not-so-distant mountain peaks, “I just didn’t expect to return so soon.”

For a moment, the only sounds that met Shamil’s ears were the crackling of flames and the soft evening calls of birds. Finally Valdora cleared his throat.

“And you believe he won’t commit his men to the fight.”

“I know he won’t.” She spat, and upon seeing Valdora’s level look, she quickly muttered, “…Sir.”

“Well, it has been some time since you left. We can only hope that his attitudes have changed. I’m not exaggerating when I say that his contribution could turn the tide of this war.” He moved the gaze to each of them‌. “We must convince him.”

The intensity of that gaze shook Shamil to her core. There was a fire in his eyes that seemed almost inhuman. As everyone else slowly returned to their idle evening chatter, Shamil stared down at her bowl, lost in thought. What was it that drove that man?? Honor? Vengeance? Or something else entirely?