The Ambition of the Dreadlord Raveres
Part III: Debts to be Paid
Episode Nineteen
Jacque pulled the ragged cloak down over his brow. Since concealing himself in the appearance of the average urchin, he'd been able to easily slip under the eyes of the men chasing him. Moving through the forest of legs and tightly packed peasants, the young Bretonnian darted down an alley.
Drawing the ragged cover across his face he paused in his sobbing to cough and groan in disgust. The filthy cloth smelt of sweat and grime; and not his own. He wanted to retch, but he wasn't yet free of the men after him, they could just as easily catch up to him
'I need to get to the port…' he thought with a nod.
But then the apprehension over whether any friendly faces would be there to greet him came and reared 'round in his mind. Changing his course, he cut across a sparsely populated street and into another alley. He knew, roughly, where he was; the bazar had earlier acted as his main landmark, but now he was using the occasional glimpse of the tall minarets and resplendent towers of the noble quarter to judge his position.
Just a few streets away he was sure he could make it back to Sir Jean… his body… and to the road which the Bretonnian consulate was housed on. The port wouldn't be safe… he mentally scoffed; nowhere was safe at the moment. But maybe the representative of Duke Meroux?
'If not the port, then the Ambassador? He's, our countryman!'
Jacque shook his head and stopped a sob in his throat,
"You fool! The only man you could trust is…"
He pursed his lips and stepped forwards, desperately avoiding the thought to come. The awkward pressing of his Druhir language book along his belt irked him, and he thought embarrassingly about her.
'She's not back yet…' he shook his head, 'she wouldn't be back for a while yet…'
He let out an awkward noise, now angry at himself and his 'fancy' over her,
'Even if she was? What… do you think she'd take pity upon us? S… S-Sir Jean is dead.'
Jacque growled and petulantly smacked his hand along the wall of the alley beside him.
"He's g-gone!"
Pausing he leant against the wall for a moment. Catching his breath, he began racing in his mind, what would he do now? Then he shivered, despite the warmth of the day, the sun overhead, and the dirty cloak covering him, Jacque began shivering and his teeth chattered as he thought about his question.
'What do I do now?'
Before he could answer himself there was a crash and laughter of boisterous men down the alley and in the street. Fear and his intention on self-security, made Jacque move away from the wall. He continued onwards, turning through the near-labyrinthine alleyways of the craftsman's quarter until he was well and truly lost.
An hour passed, or more, since, since his master fell. Jacque slowed and moved his cloak off and let it fall from his shoulders. The noise of people crying was muted and distant now. He looked up ahead; alley and deserted straw-strewn streets greeted him. Behind him was an equal measure of nothing.
He leaned against the wall beside him and really, for the first time since running, he began to weep aloud. Shaking his head and covering his face with his hands as he slunk down the wall to finally sit on the stone and pebble covered ground. His eyes burned and his fingers began to grow wet as his tears streamed down his cheeks.
Jacque shivered and his cries became deeper as he threw his all; his frustration, his impotence, his youth, into his breaking heart. He threw his head back and hit himself against the cool brickwork of the wall. The pain drew him away from his tears and he did it again. This time using more force…
It hurt almost as much as his chest did. And he did it again, harder. He saw stars and slipped down the wall clutching at the egg now forming on the back of his scalp. He whimpered and continued to let out low cries, but now having given himself something to distract his body from hurting over, he began to calm down just a little.
The throbbing pain gave him something else to contend with. But the hollow divide which was now expanding within him couldn't be so easily drowned out. Bringing his hands to his chest he clutched at his heart and curled against the cool stone wall behind him. Weeping a little quieter now he lay in as much of a ball as he could form.
…
Raveres had somehow become more imposing since arriving at the palace. Her lips and face had formed into a scowl, and wherever she walked she was leant forwards and had bent her head so that her brow narrowed in an intense glare.
Her left hand was wrapped around the hilt of her blade, and it was such that it was keeping the sheath straight as she walked; thus, maintaining an easier angle from which to draw. It was a threatening pose and she knew exactly what she was conveying by doing it.
During the impromptu meeting with Sadalsuud's emergency council she'd been awash with a strange stupor, distant, and blank faced as she was lost in her thoughts. Since then, and since Sadalsuud chose Prince Balik to lead the foray in tracking down the raiders, she'd become more animated, but not in any kind of positive way…
Raveres was seething after Yurin translated and informed her that Sadalsuud was charging the prince and giving him command of the attack. She immediately asked Yurin about the previously standing prohibition on the enlistment of the prince's aid, to which the retainer hesitantly explained: Sadalsuud was plainly overthrowing the existing convention regarding Balik and the respect afforded his sister.
Both the Princess and her demesne of 'Al Qu La' were hundreds of miles away, and as it stood Sadalsuud couldn't care about her potential ire or wroth. At this news Raveres wanted to protest, she wanted to scream at the humans and drive her fist through one of their faces to get her way.
But instead, she stood quietly and seethed. She withdrew herself, and simply began to boil. After slipping from the meeting, she finalised her deal with Sadalsuud, yet neither party presided over it. She regulated it to Yurin, informing him of her initial charter, and giving him the goal to demand as much as possible. While the Vizier Wick'tus represented the Emirate…
The retainer and the vizier draughted a more than favourable contract upon parchment and the pact between the Druchii and Merchant-Prince was finally sealed. Though normally Sadalsuud would have been very keen indeed on the terms he'd acquiesced to, in Raveres' brief absence he'd become far more enamoured with his new responsibilities, and the coronet of the Emirate was becoming a more comfortable fit for the third-born Al Daouk.
Though of course the recent chaos of the raid had stolen the majority of his attention as well…'
…
With the city now secure Raveres took leave of the Palace and was able to watch over the unloading and transport of her ship's precious cargo. Standing at the edge of the stone quay where the wooden pier connected to the old granite landing the she-elf watched the men intensely.
Her right hand curled into a fist, and her left maintained on her sheath as she stood as still as death. Only briefly would she move her head, but mostly it was her lilac eyes which darted around, scrutinising the sailors and on looking peasants.
Her armour glinted in the light and drew the fearful interest of many and to some it appeared as if she was a carved statue of black and ivory marble. Beside her Yurin held fast and wrote down on a wax tablet with a thin wood stylus, roughly tabulating the worth and contents of what had been brought ashore so far.
After the chests were given a brief inspection by Yurin and Raveres the sailors then loaded the mixed chests of elvish and pirate loot onto a horse drawn wagon. As each man passed their Druchii observer they'd nod their heads, or purse their lips in quiet and respectful affirmation.
Despite her scowl the men followed a compulsion to address her, and as each sailor passed giving his respect, she stood straighter and her features thawed minutely. When they reached the last two chests her emotions seemed to have settled significantly. Her growing ego at the men's attention was overtaking the perceived insult of Balik's selection.
When the men finished, they looked to her, almost expectantly, as she saddled upon the same horse which had borne her to the harbour the day they sailed. The Emir's guards escorting the wagon eyed the sailors with interest. The acting captain of the vessel, Dahi, raised his fist in the air, some golden bangles of his 'payment' adorning his wrist and arm.
At first the Druchii snapped her attention towards him with narrowed eyes. He had yelled her name. Then one of the other sailors, his right arm bandaged and, in a sling, held his left fist in the air and echoed Dahi, crying,
"Raveres!"
Wrapping her reins around her hand and steadying herself atop the mount she raised a brow as the sailors began repeating one another, now chanting her name lyrically in syllable groups,
Ra-ver-es, Ra-ver-es, Ra-ver-es!
One man cried above the chant and they swiftly quieted to hear him. She looked at Yurin and he immediately translated;
"He's just said how you slew the kraken in single combat."
The men let out their agreement and the peasants around the docks watching them began whispering among themselves, some began yelling to the crew and people began crying over one another as a strange excitement began to fill the air.
Raveres raised a brow and looked around the side of the small clearing at the thin crowd. Yurin's face was covered in concern as he struggled to mount his own horse. Once safely in his saddle he cleared his throat nervously,
"The people are interested my lady but… we ought to make it back to the palace!"
She nodded and waved her hand to the men driving the wagon. With a crack of their reins the two horses drawing the cart began plodding forwards. Following behind her precious cargo she continued to crane her neck to watch the sailors, eventually her curiosity and vanity got the better of her and she asked her retainer, almost eagerly,
"What else are they saying?"
Yurin nearly fell from his horse as he looked back at them and trained his ears,
"They're yelling that it was you who had saved the crew… that they'd fight for you again… you…" he sniggered.
She shot him a look of her earlier malice and he immediately quieted, she wasn't yet cooled enough to hear his laughter. Straightening in his saddle he held his closed tablet to his abdomen and quickly spoke,
"T-that you're blessed, and though you were nearly bitten in half you fought to escape the great beast's maw, and what's more you set to the streets of the city in its defence."
At this she smirked in disapproval, 'Little I had to do with that… though… the other praise is deserved.'
The sailors continued to cheer, their arms lifted high, while weary and wild-eyed peasants began waving at her emphatically as the wagon passed into the city through the port's gate. The Emir's men charged with the security of the gold and Raveres' person were now looking with both apprehension and incredulity at the she-elf.
Blinking and looking back forwards Raveres ran her tongue along her teeth as she thought to herself, a bittersweet pride now swelling in her heart.
…
In the apartments of the Emir-regent Sadalsuud, the Grand Vizier Wick'tus, several of his palace guard, and one of their informants spoke in hushed tones. The reports were now meandering and uninteresting, causing Sadalsuud discomfort as he tried to process the latest information as to the damage done to his city.
When he was begrudgingly satisfied, he dismissed his men and waved to one of the returned sailors from the expedition.
"I know that Asada fell in battle…" he grumbled in disapproval, "And…" he laughed hollowly, "you returned with only wounded men and no captives!"
The sailor nodded and looked to the floor dejectedly as the room's door closed behind the exiting soldiers.
"So, tell me, what happened?" Sadalsuud began rubbing his hands in his sleeves expectantly as he awaited the man's report.
"After Asada fell, well… it all was so quick. I remember your orders but I didn't expect the captain to be…"
He drew a breath and set towards what Sadalsuud was obviously most keen on hearing about: 'his elf'.
"She… she slew the twisted beast that the pirate Annio had become."
Sadalsuud visibly tightened as he exhaled through his nose. Mute approval to hear that the man was finally dead. Wick'tus whispered into his lord's ear. The merchant-prince nodded and spoke up,
"The taint of chaos took them, yes? The whole ship had become accursed?"
The sailor nodded, "My lord, I swear by all the prophets and gods there may be; it was evil."
He nodded again, "Right down to the ship's keel, evil had taken root; the wood was feted and rotting. But…"
He paused and raised his wound covered arm.
"The beast had arms, beyond count… a-and… she just…" he gulped "She drove forwards without fear, only madness!"
He nodded,
"Then knight followed her, before being injured and felled… And then…" he shook his head, "After having her fill of the cursed crew men she dove into the ship shouting the captain's name…"
Sadalsuud leaned back and looked towards Wick'tus; the vizier turned and eyed their sailor-spy seriously.
"This is embellishment perhaps? It is well known, the martial prowess of the frozen Asur… but to seek out the chaos spawned creature? In single combat?"
He shook his head and chuckled. The spy's face dropped and his eyes widened as he felt insulted,
"My lord… I, Mahmud Dajeen, tell no lies."
He stuffed his hand into one of his billowy trousers' sewn pockets. Pulling out a fistful of gold and gems he held it aloft.
"She paid us as well! Amply rewarding us for surviving the ordeal…"
He nodded as he let the money fall from his fingers.
"The beast was vast and its arms were beaked… it cried and roared as if to shake the world. It smelt of rot and salt. It bit men apart, and tore others limb from limb as easy as you or I would a roast chicken."
He shuddered.
"Yet, she showed no fear my lord Emir…"
He swallowed,
"Half the men are now utterly afeard of her," his voice lowered and he avoided looking at his liege, "and the other…"
Wick'tus stepped forwards, "Speak."
"They worship the elf my lords."
He sputtered in disbelief,
"They're peasants' mostly… low-born rats and superstitious sea-dogs… But they legitimately see her as something to follow," he coughed, "I… I don't understand it, but they seem to adore her for her brutality, it's a vile entrancement. Even after…"
Sadalsuud had an excited glint in his eyes and a strange smile under his beard. Mahmud shook his head,
"She slaughtered one of the men on the island. She cut his throat and threw him into the sea… As an offering to her dark gods."
The spy straightened and rubbed at his wounded arm, "My lord I swear, she is a foreign witch! And, I… I am not the only of this mind."
Sadalsuud raised his hand, "I will hear no such things spoken."
Raising from his plush seat the merchant-prince stepped away from his desk. He looked towards the arched opening leading to his balcony. The skyline of the lower city was changed, instead of elaborately painted and pennant covered homes greeting him, now stood several blackened buildings, and hollowed ruins, marring the otherwise familiar view.
Wick'tus bowed to the spy Mahmud and turned to follow Sadalsuud to the stone rail of the balcony. Watching his masters uneasily the spy dropped to recollect his plundered gold before making his exit. When their informant had left Wick'tus finally spoke.
"She's not the muted, demure creature you expected?"
Sadalsuud sniggered,
"She never was mute. She had a tongue like a dagger the first time I met her. The knight did his best to temper her words."
He smiled to himself.
"But she was an elf through and through." He nodded whispering, "A princess."
Wick'tus narrowed his brow.
"She's a Druchii, is she naught?"
Sadalsuud shook his head, "It's a fancy… I know she's not a literal-"
He turned and looked at his Vizier with an exasperated expression. The aged Vizier nodded,
"Ah… I see. Apologies my lord,"
Nodding Sadalsuud looked back over his demesne with a heavy sigh,
"Yet I wonder…"
After a few quiet seconds he then turned from the stone rail and back into his rooms. Wick'tus took a breath and sounded wearily as he began,
"My lord, I will speak to you frankly now."
Sadalsuud stopped mid-stride and turned to look at the aged councillor, an eyebrow raised in surprise.
"The sooner the Druchii leaves, the better it will all be for us."
He stepped forwards, raising a hand in placation continuing,
"She's fulfilled her bargain, and as per your order I saw to your contract. But she shouldn't be expectant of our hospitality for too much longer my lord."
Sadalsuud furrowed his brow in disappointment. Wick'tus' voice lowered as he came closer,
"My lord… please you must realise this all."
In a short while Sadalsuud was forced to confront the reality of his situation; he was not free to do as he pleased, he had things to consider now… politicking, an actual crisis on his hands. Honour, face, and his Emirate were at stake.
"We must mitigate the potential of her perceived influence. You heard from our man."
Sadalsuud reluctantly walked towards his seat and sat back down. Even though he had held council with his commanders and his spy earlier, this was the 'real' meeting.
"She's already seen… favourably by some. Others rightly fear her, and so we must consign this all to the past. Sell her a vessel, fill it, and see her away."
Sadalsuud's mouth opened and he leaned forwards but stopped himself. Inside he felt like a scolded child, he was not one to be denied, he wanted her. And by rights he would have her if he so desired. Especially now!
'I am the Emir!' he wanted to roar. Yet faced with the immovable expression of the ancient Vizier, he paused.
"Do not think I don't know you, my lord. I watched yo-"
Raising his hand Sadalsuud silenced yet another lecture reminding him of his childhood.
"What of Balik? What of any of her involvement here?"
Wick'tus nodded and exhaled, "She's already made a retainer of Yurin."
Sadalsuud furrowed his brow, "What?"
Wick'tus leaned back somewhat,
"Oh… I… Forgive me my lord, I thought you knew?"
Grumbling Sadalsuud brought his hand down firmly to rest on his desk. Through a grit expression he changed the subject,
"Tell me why I shouldn't enlist her aid further?"
Wick'tus nodded,
"The same reason why I would have suggested against further use of the Prince, Balik."
The aged man grunted and cleared his throat, "Even now I am sure his sister has caught wind of our favour towards him."
Sadalsuud groaned and leaned his chair back off its front feet. The teak wood of the furniture creaked under the weight and strain he was giving it.
"Damn his sister, she can pound sand, the little usurper…"
Wick'tus nodded, "Though that may be, she's still a powerful woman to cross. And as it sits, we are not in the most advantageous position."
Sadalsuud brought his chair down and began rubbing his neck,
"All the more reason to keep and make use of the Druchii!"
Wick'tus pursed his lips.
"Am I wrong in thinking that allies are useful? With the death of Asada, my useful courtiers grow thinner indeed!"
"We have many who can fill that void my lord."
Sadalsuud shook his head curtly as he stood, "I wish the elf to stay my guest a while longer."
Wick'tus furrowed his brow.
"Until which time shall she depart my lord?"
The regent eyed his advisor tensely,
…
When Raveres and her escort arrived through the lapis gates to the Sapphire Palace she withdrew her leg over her mount and slipped off with a skill that Yurin thought she'd been born in the saddle. The way she moved her head was as if she'd decided something.
"Yurin" she announced, "I'm going after those bastards whether Sadalsuud likes it or not."
The erudite retainer paled as he caught his foot in the stirrup, "M-my lady?"
The riders hadn't yet left the palace's stables and were still marshalling towards the side of the palace's grounds. She stole a glance down the gardened promenade towards them and stepped up the stone stairs of the palaces' façade with a quickened pace.
"Yurin!" she called.
"Aye milady!" he responded.
Straightening his belt and adjusting his grip on the wood and wax tablet he increased his step to catch up to her, but by the time he reached the stairs he had to hop them two levels at a time to get atop the landing.
…
"My lady wishes me to convey that this is not a request."
Sadalsuud looked from Yurin to Raveres uneasily before Wick'tus interjected,
"And I would have you relay to your master that she remains our guest, and it is only due to Lord Sadalsuud's infinite grace that she remains so. We've given her an apartment quarters fitting nobility, and have extended curtesy to her befitting of her status and more than fitting of her…" he paused, almost for emphasis, "situation."
Yurin relayed the response and Raveres looked at the Vizier with a strange expression before speaking. The retainer's face became sullen as he translated,
"My lady asks where her knight was taken and if the squire's been found."
Sadalsuud furrowed his brow in confusion, "What does that mean?"
Wick'tus pursed his lips and momentarily paused. Immediately Sadalsuud looked at his advisor,
"What of the knight? And the squire besides? The boy is missing?"
Raveres' face changed, she didn't need Yurin to translate; the faces, body language, and tone of Sadalsuud's words plainly told her what had transpired. Wick'tus drew a breath and looked at Yurin sternly before turning to his own master,
"I did not feel it was worth bothering your lordship with yet."
Sadalsuud looked at Raveres with a furrowed brow before moving from his advisor, "Explain?"
Wick'tus let out a heavy breath,
"We are taxed at the moment my lord! Assailed from brigands and thieves! I did not think it necessary to inform you of the petty requests of a vagabond Druchii, nor the status of a hedge knight and his orphan."
The regent opened his mouth and stepped while turning away from them all. 'Orphan'.
Sadalsuud's voice was stern,
"Wick'tus, tell me."
The Vizier eyed his regent and finally relented, truly Sadalsuud was not one he could lord over anymore, and now that he was the ruler of Al Daouk he'd better comply while he still had his head.
"The knight was slain in battle, Raveres and our men discovered him earlier today. She ordered them to bring the body here…"
Sadalsuud's eyes widened and he looked at the she-elf. Yurin translated and she straightened her back as she crossed her arms, a plain expression across her features.
"They searched for the boy and she had the audacity to order some of your men to continue searching for him among the urchins and children of the city."
Sadalsuud shook his head in disbelief.
"The knight?" he asked lowly.
He looked from the advisor and Raveres moved her bottom jaw as she held herself still. She blinked and her light expression gave Sadalsuud his answer.
"Where is he now?"
Wick'tus drew in a breath, "I had the guards take him down to the cellars."
Sadalsuud turned and set down the corridor of the palace's grand entrance. Yurin and Raveres followed, both giving Wick'tus shots of their disapproval, naturally the Druchii's was the more intimidating.
…
The sounds of the city were dulling somewhat. Or perhaps it was merely that Jacque had gotten used to it. But after crying himself dry he stood up from his temporary dirt and stone cot. Wiping his grimy face and eyes he began down the craftsmen's alley, back the way he had come. Hoping in vain to come to and see a street familiar to him.
Yet stepping into the deserted road he saw only a few bodies, discarded baskets, and upended carts. The only thing which softened the view was that an abandoned pony had discovered a clutch of fruit and was gorging itself.
With no master to discourage it, and no shopkeeper to scream in protest the beast happily ate to its heart's content. With an innocent smile Jacque looked over the creature,
'It's no saddle… but.'
Stealing looks down either side of the street the squire nodded to himself before apprehensively approaching the mount. Making 'cack, cack, cack' noises with his tongue he made his presence known to the creature. Looking up from its snack it seemed to regard the youth with benign indifference. With an even voice he petitioned the creature,
"Come on girl… I need your help…"
The pony snorted and brought its foot up almost petulantly in response. Furrowing his brow Jacque moved forwards with a degree more of confidence.
"Just this once, please… I need your help!"
His voice was pleading and the horse whinnied as it turned its head away.
"Come on, you stupid animal!" he grumbled in frustration.
The pony stepped away, the straps of its harness and bridle dragging across the straw and refuse strewn street. Behind him he heard footfalls. Stealing a glance over his shoulder he paled in horror.
"Grab him!" one man yelled, his club waving high in the air.
"Don't let him mount!" cried another.
They were brigands, not the same men who had chased him all those hours ago, but they were certainly of the same company.
"No!" the boy cried under his breath.
The pony skittered forwards but Jacque took hold of a handful of the beast's mane. Snorting and letting him know its disapproval the pony began clopping down the street with irritated speed in its step.
"Come on you bitch!" he cried, forcing himself along the side of the moving animal.
One of the men behind stopped running to begin swinging a sling. As the leather thong of the weapon increased its spin the man skilfully released his missile. Soaring through the air it collided with the pony's flank and elicited a great cry of pain from the filly. Kicking and bucking itself as it sped to a gallop Jacque was sent tumbling across the cobbles as his hands slipped from the mane and back of the mount.
Colliding with the stone the squire became winded and quickly cried out in hollowed pain as he tried to regain his breath. His eyes rolled around as the pony sped down the street, its hooves becoming farther and farther away as his escape became more and more unlikely.
'N-no…' he thought, 'y-you stupid beast… you don't realise what you've done!'
The men got closer to their target and began laughing.
"Whew! Good aim there, I thought he'd nearly gotten away from us!"
The slinger chuckled, "Thanks mate…"
The third prodded Jacques' body with his club, "Now… let's see if this little prick is the one we need shall we?"
His arm shaking and shivering violently the youth reached for his sword and drew it with a breathy roar.
"Woah!" the men exclaimed in unison.
Leaping back from the wide arc of the air-slash they began howling with laughter as Jacque drunkenly tried to rise to his feet.
"Come on lad… that's far too big a sword for so small a boy." The slinger jeered.
The man with the club stepped forwards while swinging, "Aye! Let me help you with it!"
Jacque barely saw the flash of movement before the wooden cudgel made contact with his head. Immediately falling limp his sword clanged to the stone street and he fell back in a crumple.
"Oi… fuckin' hell." The slinger announced amidst laughter.
The clubman nodded with a grimace, "Yeah… I may 'av hit 'm too 'ard."
"You think?" laughed the third.
"Well… those knights wanted a sword wielding Bretonnian boy. Didn't exactly specify alive or dead, did they?"
The three mercenaries laughed in agreement as they took Jacque's sword and one of them threw him over their shoulder.
"Nice piece of iron that." The slinger announced.
The third man held the sword in his hands and scrutinised the blade, "It's bloody castle-forged Bretonnian steel!"
The clubman, who had slung the unconscious prisoner over his shoulder, chuckled.
"Aye? That'd fetch a pretty penny no mistake!"
The third man laughed in disbelief, "Sell it? Nah! I'll keep the thing as long as I can, thing's probably induned with magic or somefing."
The slinger shook his head laughing privately as they began a quick pace down the street.
"Wha?" the third man asked.
"Nothin' just… the word you're looking for was 'imbued'."
Narrowing his brow, the third man pursed his lips in embarrassment,
"Why you always got a' go and do that?"
He looked at the clubman and then back at the slinger, "You all knew wha' I meant!"
The slinger rolled his eyes,
"Oh for fucks sake Tanner I was jus' trying to help ya' you daft cunt!"
The clubman began laughing as his two fellows began arguing. Tanner shook his head and pointed at him,
"Nah! That's it mate, you've been doin' it since we left the 'pub this morn, and even when we 'ere setting the fire!"
"What'd I say? I says, 'gotta be careful with this here pitch lest we get caught and hung'."
Tanner wiped his lip as he stowed his new sword through his belt,
"And then you says, all fancy like, 'Men get hanged, clothes get hung.'"
By now the clubman was roaring with laughter.
"I mean 'oo the fuck cares!"
Tanner threw his hands up exasperatedly as the slinger bit his tongue.
"Just 'cause you's a former Empire man you've got a go and be all fancy with ya bullshite…"
The slinger began to grit his teeth as he rubbed his beard and they continued onwards.
…
Sir Jean's body was wrapped in an improvised rough spun mourning shroud. The men who'd carried him to the palace and then down to the cool cellar had left him under an arch in a dank aromatic corner of the palaces under structure.
Sadalsuud stopped when he saw the covered body. The three stepped towards the corpse and Raveres remained the farthest as the regent lowered, his chest heaving from their hasty journey down the steps, and took hold of the shroud. Lifting it away from Sir Jean's face he saw the closed eyes and blue, peaceful, expression of a man killed in battle.
"How…" he whispered to himself.
Yurin replied,
"We know naught the whole tale, but he was felled by one of his countrymen. My lady took one of their heads."
Sadalsuud pursed his lips and looked away from the body.
"And the others?"
Yurin spoke with Raveres, and the Druchii never took her gaze away from Sadalsuud, unblinking, her violet eyes glittered in the low light of the cellar turned catacomb.
"My lady says that they have no doubt fled the city, the squire in tow, a prisoner now, but…"
Yurin swallowed, "Surely a worse fate awaits him."
Sadalsuud struggled back to his feet, continuing to breathe heavily, stress-sweat now dotting the brow below his turban. He pointed a pudgy, ring adorned, finger at the cross-armed Druchii.
"They took your companion?"
Yurin repeated and she nodded, still yet to blink. Sadalsuud swallowed and looked down at the fallen knight.
"I will see him taken care of… properly. Wounds sewn, his armour and glory restored."
He nodded.
"Those men who killed him… You know them?"
Raveres nodded and spoke her voice as icy as her homeland.
"My lady says that they sought her and the squire's blood before, an insult which has…" the retainer sniggered sarcastically, "…obviously escalated."
Sadalsuud furrowed his brow in anger.
"They are responsible for this?" he pointed upwards, indicating the devastation wrought on his city.
Raveres nodded again and uncrossed her arms. He stepped forwards, uncomfortably close to the she-elf, yet she showed no signs of revulsion or desire to step away.
"First the pirate… now these men." He scoffed.
Narrowing his eyes, he nodded curtly, "Take a horse. See it ended."
He looked back at Sir Jean forlornly.
"Don't let the knight's death be in vain…"
Raveres bowed her head at the neck and turned to leave. Her boots echoing on the stone floor as her armour clinked and scraped together lowly.
…
Prince Balik beamed a smile to see Raveres riding towards the mounted men. Though his smile faltered when she roared to the assembly of cavalry and that little worm of hers spoke in his high-tongued Arabyan.
"By allowance of the Emir, my lady shall accompany you."
She shot a look at Balik and as they finally set forwards on their mission, leaving the palace to the adulation of the present people. Bringing her horse alongside the prince's camel Yurin called, repeating her words,
"My lady asks, what has become of her head?"
He sighed; he'd since become the unwitting bearer of her trophy. Nodding he reached towards a darkened and damp saddlebag on the left of his mount. Raising it up, he eagerly handed it over to the Druchii. Glad to no longer be custodian of such a grotesquery.
She had a mad excitement in her eyes as she took hold of the bag. Resting it in her lap she grew a small, private, sadistic smile before looking forwards. Prince Balik furrowed his brow; a genuine discomfort now began setting into his bones at the malicious expression across the woman's lips. He didn't quite know what to think of the she-elf now.
…
Though Balik had nominal command of the foray the veteran master of horse was the sergeant for the cavalry. Raveres made sure to council with the man through Yurin.
The scouts who followed the retreating raiders indicated that they had mostly scattered to the winds once they were free of the walls. Yet the bulk of the enemy, and therefore the captives and heavy loot were easier to track. They had several hours' advantage and were miles ahead of Raveres, Balik, and the Emir's riders, but they had the luxury of not being weighed down by slaves.
It seemed almost folly that the brigands had done what they did. Surely, they knew that the Emir's retribution would follow swiftly. Did they honestly not plan that far ahead in their scheme?
When the group started seeing the wounded and dead left to rot at the side of the road by their fellows, they began their interrogation and received their answers. Raveres did the punishing as Yurin, Balik, and the Master of Horse asked the questions. Once she set to work, the average among the Emir's men paled and could only watch on in horror as the Druchii put into practise what they vaguely knew of her kind.
Yurin lasted as long as he could before he had to walk away and plug his ears for the screaming. Prince Balik gulped and steeled himself, uneasy, and nauseous as he watched the Druchii work.
The only one who appeared unmoved by Raveres' clinical technique was the Master of Horse; he asked the most questions and would call the she-elf's name to get her to pause momentarily in her torture. The first man they found held a broken arm tightly to his abdomen and pleaded for mercy even before Raveres dismounted. But then she started.
Using the dull tips of her gauntlet she began cutting into and pulling at the skin along his fingers, rending it off his appendages in strips. As he attempted to fight back, she'd kick her heel into his broken arm, exacerbating his already severe wound.
The man, who eventually revealed himself as a sell-sword caught up in the chaos, begged her, but to no avail. She didn't speak his tongue and didn't care for his words. She knew that the men around her would do the asking.
"And so, what was your plan?" The Master of Horse asked, his voice even and booming, as he remained atop his mount.
"T-there was no plan… I GAHH! AH HA HAAgh! I told you it was Haridah's company… his men set the fire!"
Raveres had now made use of one of the man's own daggers and was peeling the skin off the man's unbroken arm.
He screamed and began a maddening wail before she stopped and stood away for a moment. The horsemen watched on, sternly regarding the man with varying expressions. Some viewed the mercenary pityingly, others with satisfied anger, and a few felt he'd not yet been punished enough.
Raveres looked up and stared at the Master of Horse, expectantly awaiting his nod for her to continue.
"So, you joined in the chaos?"
The man whimpered and screamed in pain as he nodded, desperately trying to keep his arm from getting sand along its wounds.
"T-there was m-many… I…" he leant back and tried to catch his breath, wearily agreeing, "we j-just joined in…"
The Master of Horse nodded to Raveres and she turned back to continue as the man wailed and screamed aloud in protest. Prince Balik turned his camel away and rode over to check on Yurin.
After a few more questions the Palace's sergeant waved his hand through the air in a cutting motion before turning around and addressing the men. Raveres drew her sword and levelled it high as the man's protests reached a crescendo.
Remounting their horses, the mounted company set forwards again. Yurin was pale and wan and viewed his mistress with an apprehensive terror, trying his best to explain away and justify what she had just done.
Raveres placed the man's head in the same saddle bag as Sir Cratoun's. Flies and a reeking stench were beginning to waft from the satchel as the sun bore down on the leather. As she stepped into her stirrups she spoke deeply to her retainer,
"Tell the captain that he is to ask about a boy and the knights to the next man."
Yurin nodded and repeated the words, he moved in his saddle uneasily and the sergeant grunted in affirmation that'd he'd be sure to ask.
…
The next wounded and abandoned man they found spat at and kicked sand towards Raveres as she dismounted. He was nursing an arrow lodged through his shoulder and must have fallen from his horse.
'No matter', she thought.
Unlike the first man he put up a stronger resistance. Yurin made sure to avert his eyes, nearly retching as Raveres 'worked' on him. Her earlier cleanliness and skilful cuts were now less so. She was visibly wrathful and cleaved at the man like an inexperienced butcher. Some cavalrymen vomited.
Most of the information the man gave corroborated what the earlier one had said, yet even after she'd removed each finger from his right hand, he did not know anything of two knights or a squire boy.
The only boys he knew of were some that the other men had taken as 'loot', slaves to be sold as soon as they reached a flesh-trader. However, the third man they found gave Raveres the answers she sought. He revealed that there were indeed two armoured knights who had been present when the main host of the men had fled the city.
The dying man also revealed that these Bretonnians intended to drive on towards one of the errantry states with their mercenary company, while the other rag-tag assortment of impromptu raiders was seeking a closer refuge in the city of Al-Haikk, where they could then scatter themselves to the seas.
Prince Balik revealed that the city was one home to one of the largest ports in all of Araby and the Master of Horse indicated that should the knights reach the safety of their own people there wouldn't be anything he could do, lest they risk sparking military retaliation against Al Daouk.
With a growl the Druchii cleaved the man's head off as she let out a roar of frustration. Watching her turn and look across the dunes and sea of sand to their right, Yurin finally got the courage to speak up,
"M-my lady?"
Balik and the Master of Horse began speaking to one another, quieting when Raveres eventually responded.
"Yurin, tell them to split themselves, Balik and half the men shall ride after their own, we shall make for the knights, before they pass from my reach."
"B-but my lady… can you m-make such orders?"
When she turned, she sheathed her blade and remounted, staring at her retainer sternly.
"Say it before I bury you under the books you so treasure."
Yurin coughed dryly and nodded in fear as he tried to speak. Several of the men grumbled in disagreement at the words, but silenced at a glance from the master of horse. Prince Balik spoke with the sergeant and eventually they seemed to agree.
The wait felt like such a waste of time. And Raveres tightened her grip on her reins as though she was strangling them. When the men spoke Yurin translated,
"We are charged with the rescue of our people, Prince Balik and the Master wish that they could help you. Truly… But…"
Raveres wanted to snarl but maintained her features steadily as she listened. Yurin swayed as he finished,
"They'll only allow volunteers to… to follow you."
She scoffed and would have howled with laughter if it weren't so bright and hot. Throwing her head back she grunted and turned her horse as she set down the road.
"Make promises of gold! Say whatever you will Yurin… But I will kill those knights, with help or no."
The men watched sombrely as the Druchii parted from their grouping. Yurin's voice weakly relayed the information and some men began speaking to their fellows as the mass of cavalry began down the road. Despite his hopes Yurin was only able to sway a few men to follow him.
Prince Balik pursed his lips before waving, yelled Raveres' name as he and the force of men parted, turning left down the well-trod road while she, Yurin, and five mounted men sought to chase down an unknown number of mercenaries.
Looking over her shoulder Raveres briefly made eye contact with Balik before setting in her spurs and jarring her horse into a gallop.
"I didn't realise she was so mad…" he said.
The master of horse chuckled dryly,
"I would not want to have crossed that woman."
"Though," the man began, "Tell me prince. What's the significance of the boy?"
The men increased their own speed hoping to catch up to their quarry.
"The men killed her companion and seem to have taken the boy as a hostage."
The master nodded, "Aye… I pieced that together."
Prince Balik shook his head, "From what I could tell the knight was a friend of hers, saved her life, and vice versa."
The gruff sergeant nodded as he squinted.
"I met him, spoke with him, he seemed a noble sort. Strange that they were allies… but, she's sworn to aid me as well, so…" Balik nodded and smiled to himself. "I think she's an odd one among her people."
The stern sergeant looked over his shoulder at the dust cloud being kicked up by the Druchii, "Gods help those fools."
…
They rode for near an hour. Raveres swore she could see the glinting of their quarry just ahead. But as time wore on, they seemed no closer to whatever it was she had seen along the horizon. Slowing down to spare the horses the Druchii gained an excited glint in her eye when one of the men announced something and pointed towards the side of the road.
Now, so far from Al Daouk, the nicely paved and well kempt highway had devolved into pounded rough stone and dirt, held down only by the traffic which made use of the road regularly. Yurin repeated the man's words, as he flinched under his mistress' gaze,
"He says there's smoke ahead."
Snarling and wrapping her hand around her sword Raveres dug her heels in and drove forwards, cutting off the road in a direct line towards where the man had pointed. Following her example, the men all drew steel and followed her.
The she-elf's mind was racing as she eagerly mounted the crest of dune which was obscuring their view. The Druchii's eyes twitched as she beheld dismounted riders nestled around an oasis. There were easily ten men resting themselves and their horses around the watering hole.
Yet Raveres wasn't about to ask questions politely, or wait until they saw her. Holding her black-steel longsword above her head she let out a war cry and barrelled down the side of the dune towards the rough men.
"Sa'an'ishar!"
The men at her command let loose with their own war cries and hollers. Even Yurin, at the back of the line, let out a scream of anxiousness, the longer of his two swords held highly in the air. The men around the oasis began swearing or exclaiming in confusion and surprise at the sudden attack.
Readying themselves to fight they began a rough melee. Raveres, the first into the fray, screamed like a banshee and cleaved a man's face off at her first pass through. Rounding herself and turning she began running through the men as they spun around not knowing which foe on horseback to engage first.
Trampling a man, she let out a loud moan of satisfaction when she heard his screams muted by the horse's hooves across his skull. Screaming and slashing on her left side she felled another man, and she let out yells of satisfaction as the men who'd followed her skilfully slaughtered the rest of the brigands.
It was over faster than she would have liked yet there was entertainment yet;
"Yurin! Don't let that man escape!"
Pointing with her sword she indicated one of the few men to have mounted his horse; he'd slapped and kicked his beast to bear him tearing away from the oasis and back on the road.
Yurin had only slashed with token effort at some men, but he knew from her expression she meant he was to kill him. Gulping and feeling his lower abdomen tighten with a cold numbness he nodded, pursing his lips and turning his horse to follow after the escapee.
His face was red and he was breathing heavily under his light armour but Yurin's horse easily caught up to the weighed down and exhausted mount that the mercenary was atop. With a pained cry Yurin brought his arm up and swung towards the man.
They were closing the distance and he didn't expect his blade to actually connect, but the steel found its mark. The man let out a howl of pain as Yurin's weapon slit through the man's tunic and opened a deep gash down his left shoulder.
Turning and staring daggers at him Yurin quickly parried the man's obvious counter attack. With an ease which surprised him, the bookish, erudite, translator, drove his sword into the man's chest, sending him toppling from the saddle to the road below.
Pulling on his reins Yurin's horse came to a stop and he rode around to look at the man he'd killed. The man had a pained and surprised expression on his face as he twitched and gasped his last. His face was marred by brutal scars and thief brandings. His facial hair was a patchwork of ugly curling hairs amidst all his smooth scar tissue. His scalp's hair was thinning and kept short, yet he had a knot tied at the back made of his longest strands.
Yurin stared, his mouth open as he panted, at his first kill. He felt like being sick. He didn't like it, and he stared off his horse at the man dead in the sand below his feet. His blade was stained red with fresh blood.
But he wasn't able to stare and observe the corpse for long. Raveres cried his name and he snapped back to the present. Riding his horse back to the oasis he saw that the Druchii had yet another man at her mercy.
"Ask him where the knights are!"
Yurin nodded uneasily, still not having caught his breath. He asked first in Arabyan, but the man shook his head and responded in Bretonnian. Furrowing his brow Yurin made the switch,
"Where are the knights who borne you? Your patrons! Where have they fled?"
The man coughed as Raveres held his collar and dug her sword's tip into his flesh.
"Into the d-desert… You'll never find them…" he laughed nervously as he eyed Raveres.
She stared unblinkingly into his face; rage barely contained behind her features. Yurin relayed the information and her lip twitched before she spoke.
"My lady says that she will provide you with pain beyond imagining if you do not tell her where they've fled."
After this Yurin added rather candidly his own advice,
"She'll flay you living or rip off your manhood; I swear by the gods… you should tell her what she wishes to hear."
The man pursed his bloodstained lips and spat at Raveres' face.
"Tell the knife-eared cunt she can rot in hell! I am a man of the Haridah Mercenary Company! I will not break!"
Yurin's eyes widened as Raveres let go of the man and recoiled from the spittle and mucous on her face. Even the men still atop their horses cringed. With a swift kick Raveres hit the man across the abdomen and he keeled downwards in pain. Her voice was metallic and filled with pure sadistic malice.
"Tell the men to make a camp here, steal from the dead, rest the horses. We'll be a while."
Yurin shivered as he relayed the order. The men immediately set towards searching the bodies and making themselves a temporary refuge.
…
Sitting with several of the men around the mercenary's fire Yurin stared into the coals, telling himself what he'd whisper after every 'break' in questioning.
'Not again… I'm not going over there again…'
At first the riders jeered and took a perverse entertainment from what Raveres was doing, but now, sitting around the fire, filling their water skins in the clean oasis, or rubbing their horses' necks, even the most veteran among them was growing uneasy at the noise.
Finally, like a dreadful war horn, he heard his name, summoned to be the master of tongues once more.
"Yurin! I think he wishes to speak now."
Gulping and wearily coming to his feet Yurin stood and the riders looked to him with pity in their expressions. Stepping away from his seat beside the fire he walked out of the bowl around the oasis and behind the small shrubbery where Raveres had dragged the man. She'd taken off her gauntlets and vambraces, and now she had even removed her cuirass.
Her shoulders and face were clearly sunburnt now and her pale flesh was reddened by more than just her emotion. Her bandage covered chest heaved as she panted. Using a section of the man's torn tunic she was wiping blood from her right hand, her left was still bandaged, though he could see that her sweat had made the cloth begin to come free.
Pointing over her shoulder she indicated where her prey was, "There…" she huffed, "As I said… I think he's ready to talk now."
Yurin hesitated before finally looking over at the whimpering and moaning mess that the mercenary had become. She'd broken both his arms, stripped him naked, and tied him to the broken trunk of a long dead, and dried out palm tree.
But that was how he looked earlier. Yurin felt a shudder of terror before he had to look away. The man's chest was covered in deep cross marks from where she just began hacking off sections of flesh. She'd cut across his forehead and pulled down some of his skin making his face an absolute mess of dried and still flowing blood. At the man's feet lay the tips of all ten of his fingers and large cleaved chunks of his chest's flesh.
Turning away from the man and back to his master Yurin looked at her with pleading fear, she too was marred in gore; blood was freckled across her face and splattered up both her arms Raveres threw the scrap of tunic to her side as she stepped towards her retainer,
"Same questions as before," her voice rose, "You should know them as well as he does by now."
She chuckled breathily before sitting on the slope of the dune and taking a swig of one of the dead men's water skins. Yurin stepped closer to the man and cleared his throat,
"So… You know what I'm to ask?"
The man lolled his head and nodded weakly, his throat raspy and dry from his screaming,
"Y-yes… I'll tell you where they are… n-no… where they're going."
Raveres swallowed a mouthful of water before standing from her seat and walking towards the man.
"Amidst the desert, there… there lies a rock… A… a big one… beside it is a…" he coughed and let out crying winces of pain. "…tomb… and great columns…"
Raveres lowered to a squat and stared at the man intensely.
"That's where… Haridah takes us, that's where the knights will surely be… I know it."
Yurin repeated the information into Druhir and Raveres raised her chin,
"He's sure of this? What are these ruins called?"
The man nodded weakly, "Water… please…"
"What are they called?"
He shook his head, "nameless… it's a… t-tomb…"
Yurin's eyes widened, "M-my lady, it may be a ruin of Nehekhara…"
Furrowing her brow Raveres looked at her retainer, "What is this?"
The young man shook his head, "You've never heard of the land of the dead? The… the land of Khemri? The… The Tomb Kings?"
His voice lowered as he spoke, almost superstitiously, yet Raveres showed no signs of any recollection of such a place.
"They… they say they come out of their tombs and pyramids, once great men, now commanding legions of skeleton warriors."
The she-elf furrowed her brow,
"You may give me a lesson later if you wish, but right now, focus. What is this place and where can we find it?"
The man coughed and struggled to speak amidst the searing pain,
"Nearly a hundred miles from here… Along the road to the ruins of Bel-Aliad…"
Yurin repeated the words and Raveres growled with incredulity as she stood back up.
"Over a hundred miles? That's three days of travel across what looks to me like endless desert…" she shook her head, "He lies."
Yurin gulped in disbelief, 'Surely the sun has made her mad… t-the loss of the knight? Any of this! He's not lying! Why would he?'
Looking at his master he shivered,
"M-my lady… he's obviously telling the truth-"
Giving Yurin a lethal glance she shook her head again, "Say it to him, now."
He spoke in Bretonnian to the man, "She… she doesn't believe you."
The mercenary shuddered and began wailing. Yurin had to try and be merciful and he lowered,
"Please… tell me, is it true?!"
Raveres furrowed her brow, "Yurin! Quiet!"
The man continued to weep, and protested, "I'm telling the truth!"
"My lady, he swears it to be true! Please, show mercy!"
Raveres paused and tilted her head.
"Tell him I will castrate him, slit his tendons, and leave him in this desert as mercy, and he'll have you to thank for it."
Yurin began a staring contest with his master before finally speaking to the prisoner, "Please… you have no idea what else she'll do to you… I'm trying to help you. Is that information, correct?"
The man's swollen face looked up and he met Yurin's eye. Nervously he looked at Raveres as she took another swig of water. Yurin's voice cracked as he began pleading,
"Look… s-she'll… you don't want to know what she's going to do… please, for your own sake! I'm begging you!"
The man shuddered and averted his eyes to the ground,
"Past the city of Martek… amidst the mountains, a day's journey from here… Are the ruins…"
Yurin let out a heavy breath as he repeated the information. Nodding Raveres descended and took the man's chin in her hands,
"Now… Was that so hard?"
Yurin stepped up and away from his master as she began helping the nozzle of the water skin to the wounded man's lips. The retainer shook his head in utter disbelief at the Druchii as she spoke lowly,
"I knew he was lying Yurin."
Dropping the water skin to the ground the man made a sound of protest as he tried following it with his mouth.
"Now how many men are there?"
The man nodded his head towards the water skin, "W-water please…"
"Numbers first, water later."
Yurin repeated the question, and the man's answer,
"Nearly twenty men, along with the knights…"
The Druchii nodded,
"Give him some water Yurin. He'll appreciate it more coming from you."
Rising to her feet Raveres stepped aside as the retainer stepped forwards. Lowering to pick up the skin he began helping it to the man's lips while the she-elf stepped around the palm trunk. Yurin barely had time to react when she drew her sword and brought it down across the man's neck.
Letting out a scream the retainer fell backwards in horror as the decapitated head flew forwards. Kicking himself backwards he brought his hands to cover his eyes as he began losing his breath and screaming madly. Sheathing her sword and walking back to her armour Raveres waited about a minute before speaking,
"Tell the men where we're headed and to fill their skins. If they've not eaten tell them I'll wait a half-hour. No more."
Yurin began crying as he struggled away from the dull-eyed head. Water and blood were pooling into the sand from his open throat, and he seemed to stare hopelessly towards him.
"M-my lady, p-please…"
Striding over the sand and grass Raveres reached forwards and brought Yurin to his feet by his neck,
"I gave him mercy you fool!"
Her lip snarled and she held back,
"You knew of my people; you knew what I was when you swore yourself to me."
Smirking hollowly Raveres continued,
"Do not so think I am remiss in my favour or in my actions."
Shuddering and struggling under her grip the young man faltered, and she continued,
"Look upon me Yurin! I am a woman, wounded, and alone among men in an alien country. I have no further room for mercy, or for softness."
Bringing herself close to his face she gritted her teeth and lowered her voice,
"I can ill afford it. And I will never be in a position as I was at the beginning of my journey. Do. You. Understand. me?"
Yurin choked on his words as he nodded. Throwing her retainer back to the ground Raveres licked her teeth before spitting to her side.
"Good. Now stand up and tell the men."
…